The Sonata of Servitude
by LightofaThousandSuns
Summary: PruAusPru, other pairings. Serving a Master was never part of Gilbert Beilschmidt's life-plan. Neither was being dragged into a world of riches, secrecy and luxury and betrayal. Nor was finding love in a virtuoso master. A journey is beginning...for all.
1. Part One: Twelfth Hour

A/N: You're probably wondering why I started a new story XD This is actually my story for NaNoWriMo-National Novel Writing Month. This is also a gift for my Wifey/Austria, and she knows who she is. Thanks for everything dear. I remember when we used to fight sometimes, but it's not like that at all; love you dear, keep up the hard work, and thanks again for being the Awesome Austria to my Awesome Prussia.

The story is being put up now in honor of my Austria's birthday; when November ends, the story will be put up completely; I doubt I will finish at around 50,000 words; this story is going to be very long and complicated, and not short whatsoever, and have many pairings. In fact, let's list them!

**Main Pairings**: PrussiaxAustria

**Side/Other Pairings**: US x UK, Japan x Belarus, GerIta, Turkey x Hungary, Monaco x Hong-Kong, Ukraine x Belgium, hinted-at Spamano. Possibly more pairings later.

**Familial Relationships**: France and Monaco (Brother and Sister); Hong-Kong and Taiwan (Brother and Sister). Maria and Roland are Roderich's parents.

**Warnings-Aka, all the things you love**: Swearing, cursing, Yaoi and Yuri and Heterosexual relationships; _English _swears, drinking, smoking. Servitude-both of free will and indentured. Gun violence (Switzerland, haha), poverty, mentions of cholera, heart disease, God, Music, Chopin, erectile dysfunction, and other random topics that disturb the Victorian-mindset. Yaoi-loving maids, illegal sex (Pretty much almost all of the relationships except the hetero in this story, hehe). France being perverted and money-hungry; screaming, fighting, yelling, voyeurism, smart-ass animals, smart-ass Prussians, drunk Prussians, and so on.

Enjoy! I plan on seeing this through to the end, like Savior (Which will be worked on in December, I swear!)

**Song Inspiration** for Chapter 1:

Kalafina: "Lacrimosa"

Lisa Miskovsky: "Still Alive"

Pussycat Dolls and A. R. Rahman: "Jai-Ho"

* * *

_The Sonata of Servitude_

1

Twelfth Hour

* * *

_Life seems but a quick succession of busy nothings._

_- Jane Austen_

* * *

**March, of 1841**

**London, England, in the United Kingdom**

He could have made many, many quick observations about his surroundings; that the snow at the corners of the streets was finally melting into muddy, inky piles. That the buggies and carriages were surprisingly fast in the middle of the spring afternoon. Or that London's sky seemed smoggier than it had yesterday.

But no, Gilbert Beilschmidt, head looking downward, could conclude only one thing: That he was going to need new shoes, and need them fast.

The holes in his family-passed down boots were…well, more obtuse and observable than they had been yesterday, that was a certainty. The cobblestones of the city had worn them thin; no, it was not because he was traversing out and about with a purpose—that would have saved the shoes. If one walks with a purpose somewhere, they have a certain path, a path they have ordained in themselves that is most likely straight, narrow, and fairly non-dangerous.

If one was to ask this male if he had such a path, his answer would be as follows:

"Are you fucking kidding me?", with the improper language included.

This is not to say that Gilbert Beilschmidt was _looking_ for a path either—or looking hard would be the more correct way of defining the twenty-three year old's mentality. It was not that Gilbert failed to want something else in his life other than daily trips to the bar, warming himself over a small coal stove in a one-bedroom shack that he owned in downtown Victorian London, on the other side of the Thames, or scrounging for food with the few coins his brother gave him—daily. It was just…

…Well, it was not easy when life was a rollercoaster.

But, he tried to keep his attitude upbeat and positive; and trips to _Eduard's _were definitely positive notes; this one, unfortunately, on the Monday, was going to be less positive, for his own personal reasons.

Nevertheless, as he walked down Charles Avenue, he finally found solace in the lightly-lit atmosphere of the pub; cigar smoke filling his nostrils, combining with the stench of fresh gin and beer; out of habit, pallid hands came up to tug at the thin, tartan scarf wrapped around an even thiner neck, while ruby eyes sought out a person in particular.

"Oi, you idiot, I'm behind ya!"

Gilbert turned, his platinum blond hair, hair bordering on the color of snow and silvery metal, flopping somewhat in his eyes, and against the back of his neck; he would have known that heavy English accent anywhere, that was a positive, and eyes eventually locked onto a figure with a dark coat, and even darker brows.

"You got a table in the corner? That's unlike you, Princess."

The other male took off his worn cap, ruffled sandy locks popping out, and standing out as much as the bushy eyebrows on his face, "Yeah, yeah, I was just hoping for a change. Besides, it's more crowded in here than usual."

Gilbert snorted, taking off his pea-green coat, slinging it across the rickety chair, "Mm, typical Arthur Kirkland. Avoiding people."

The other snorted, lifting up the beer he had already purchased, "Oi, shut up. You're not any better, Mister-I-Don't-Want-a-Bloody-Job-Because-Everyone-Is-Not-As-Great-As-Me."

Fiery eyes rolled themselves; sometimes he wondered how it was that this man in front of him was his friend—his _only _friend, but still…

They had met two years ago; Arthur himself was a ship captain, mostly working in commercial business, sailing across the Atlantic to import and export goods to the Americas. Gilbert himself had been wandering drunkenly down in the docks when they met, the Kirkland himself not too far off from being buzzed, either. They had woken up in separate rooms in a nearby hotel the next morn, with empty bottles askew everywhere, and lipstick marks on their clothes, but with the lacking scent of sex; their friendship had been sealed, in essence, with the smell of booze and the kisses of whores.

Nowadays, Arthur had been promoted—finally saving enough cash in his pocket for a ship of his own, that was strictly for shipping people across the ocean; in other words, his ship took in immigrants, travelers, vacationers, the aristocrats who longed for a new life outside of London-town and England as a whole.

"Add to that the damn fact that there aren't ANY jobs here, and you've got my attitude perfect." Gilbert replied with, taking a swig of the beer Arthur had left on the table for him.

"Hmph, typical." The blonde let out a chortle, "But truly, do you expect to live in that little house for the rest of your life?"

"HEY-" A pout came onto a porcelain face, "That house…is fine."

A snort, "Last time I checked, the roof leaks, that little area in which you bathe is deplorable-"

"That little hole in the wall where my tub is sitting is _fine_-"

"Gilbert, I am fairly certain that there are _actual_ holes in your wall! Or worse, holes in that tub you drag water to! Your kitchen is a disgrace, when was the last time you had a good meal?"

"Well, the lady at the market gave me cheese-"

"You're taking _handouts_?"

Gilbert was used to this sort of banter; as Arthur's life got better, it seemed his just got worse…It had gotten more worse within the past twenty four hours, and it must have shown on his weary face, for Arthur piped up with,

"Well? What is it? Tell me already, there is something bothering you, and, quite frankly, it is bloody obvious."

"…_That _obvious?"

"Very much so. So tell me, what is it?"

"…They're getting married."

Oh.

That.

That was…well…

Gilbert inwardly sighed as his companion outwardly did so; it was not that he was jealous of his younger brother Ludwig, but…

It had begun years ago, in all honesty—five, to be of exact number. Frederich Beilschmidt, the great mastermind of a Brewery of the same name, had been in the prime of his life, for most of his life. Only when his wife Adele passed did tragedy first begin to set in—her hair the color of Gilbert's, her eyes of Ludwig's icy hue, she had been a beauty of German majesty, Frederich of Prussian greatness.

Their copulation beforehand had been brief, and of perchance; he having moved to England for a fresh start, away from his old Empire and homeland. She, escaping an ailing mother and aunt, a jealous sister, and a family fortune that was teetering on the brink of failure. It had been what many would call a romantic meeting, a whisk of a greeting in the street leading to throes of passion.

That is, until seven years ago, when Adele was stricken with a heart condition, eventually passing on to the Other Side. Frederich barely coped, his grown sons doing the best they could, Gilbert at the time being sixteen, Ludwig only thirteen. But the eldest Beilschmidt lasted only another twenty-four months, but his company failed to last even that long.

Eight months after passing, the brewery found itself in dire bankruptcy; there had been crimes unimaginable taking place while Frederich mourned his wife, and was out of his senses, business-wise. Corruption, thievery, anything a diabolical male in the company could get his hands on was taken away, whisked away into the cold English nights. It led to a greater loss for Frederich's sons, mainly. Ailing of cholera at the time, his death slow and painful, the house was taken away due to a lack of funds, and three days after he passed on, both boys finding themselves homeless, and parentless, only at the ages of eighteen and fifteen.

They had scourged since then; their father's will had been cut up among debtors, furniture taken away; the only family heirlooms the boys allowed to keep being two black and silver crosses, necklaces they forever placed around their necks as symbols of hope, pride, sturdy and sensibility.

They went from home to home, renting them out, Ludwig being the most reliable in finding a job in some sort of work or factory; one year it was textiles, another he got in with a baker on Walker Plaza. But it was not until the past year that things had begun to truly change.

Ludwig had stumbled upon Feliciano Vargas.

Eighteen, naïve and the heir to one of the largest business in Italy, Ludwig had found the perfect person—well, alright, their personalities clashed like snow and the tropics, but it was something. If anything, Gilbert noted, Feliciano made Ludwig actually smile, and give off secret laughs and rolls of the eyes.

It was then that Ludwig had been invited to stay at Feliciano's house—mansion is what it should have been named—and of course, being of a poor household now, the blonde Beilschmidt heartily accepted; to think that a rich boy, who could have any girl or male that he wanted (male, as long as it was "underground"), was picking his brother out of all of them…

Of course, though, Gilbert had been asked too—The Vargas child enjoyed both brothers, but Gilbert knew what it was; it was an invitation, yes, and he could have accepted—but his brother was in love. Truly in love, for there was a gleam in his cerulean orbs that had failed to exist for years and years. He could not intrude on that—it would bring dishonor to his family name if he somehow got in the way of his brother's joy, even if he was just to be a houseguest.

So the invitation was declined, and Ludwig was whisked away by the Vargas family, the head of the household, Roma Vargas, giving the German male a giant hug before the carriage sped off, across the bridge of the Thames, down London's streets, and off to the outskirts of the city, where the family resided.

For the rest of the time, Gilbert had spent now, alone, going from home to home, picking up money wherever he could, and yes—he did take handouts for food, he was not a fool.

But now things were just…Now that Ludwig was going to _marry _the man, secretly, in order to avoid persecution and a capital offense, Feliciano apparently the one who proposed…Gilbert was beginning to think his life was stalling majorly.

"They know a priest that will do homosexual marriages around here?" Arthur quipped, Gilbert only responding with a shrug,

"He's the heir of a major pasta-sauce company in Italy that has finally spread to England within the past decade. I'm certain they have major connections. Besides, have you met Feliciano's father?"

"Hmm?"

A conspiratorial glimmer came into garnet orbs, "I think he's just as much of a homosexual as we are."

That led to an unexpected reaction—Arthur spitting out his beer, some of the copper liquid with crystalline foam spraying Gilbert's face, as he spat out,

"HOW THE HELL DO YOU-"

It was only through the sheer quickness of Gilbert's hand did the blonde sailor not spout out words he would regret; a hushed 'shush' came from the albino male, and he whispered,

"I didn't know. But I do know now-"

"Oh, you limey of a bastard!" Arthur, face the hue of a summer-born apple, pouted in the most un-gentlemanly fashion; even if he was of the same class as Gilbert, Arthur prided himself on behaving better than his best friend—at all times.

"So…Who is he?"

"…"

"Oh come on, you can tell me."

"I would rather tell you in private, than in a public setting, where people could overhear us, and-"

"Ya think anyone cares what we get up to? We're a couple of rouges, guys without a damn really important job or title to their name, who gives a shit about who we take to bed?"

A Titan-esque pause, then,

"…His name is…er…A-Alfred."

It had been a quiet statement, on the verge of muteness, the white-haired male having to lean in to hear the words spoke, his eyebrows of thin quality coming to raise themselves in surprise.

"Oh? Alfred?"

"…An A-American. Also works in the ship y-yard. We were thinking of…possibly…w-working together on my boat-"

"Ohhhh man, really? _REALLY_?"

"Yes, really! Why would I make that up!"

Gilbert let out a snort, "You sly dog. I knew you had someone when you bailed on me last Wednesday."

The Kirkland male let out a blush, trying to hide it while scowling, "Alfred had saved up enough money to take me out to dinner. I could not refuse him. It would have been ungentlemanly."

"Oh, and you're a gentleman?"

"And you are saying that _you_ are?"

Gilbert snorted, "Fuck no. Gentlemen, what do they have that I have not got?"

"Besides a brain?"

The albino waved a hand, "Be serious, Princess. All gentleman are the same thing—rich bastards who are just lucky enough to have that money. They are all stuck up snobs, rich prissy pussies. Who would want to be like them?"

"Well, I could use the money. And the prestige-"

"Yeah, but c'mon. Think on it." The Beilschmidt wagged a callused finger, "If we were rich boys, we'd be saddled with some chick whose hips would just pump out kids. We wouldn't be able to be ourselves."

"Ourselves?"

"…Come _on_." He bent closer, to whisper, "You wouldn't be able to have sex with Alfred if you were a fancy-pants-rich-kid. Hell, they'd kill you if they found out. But here? Nah, they won't care what we're doing, as long as we don't advertise it. But if you were another guy? Nah, you would be dead before the first kiss."

"…My, my, someone actually has wisdom today."

A sly smirk, "I do have my moments, you know. All my moments are wise, ha!"

They spent another hour amongst their fellow Victorians, drinking the beer that came from not a Beilschmidt, but another Germanic name of old descent; Gilbert let out rip after rip at his old friend, their banter always having been like so—And Arthur could greatly attest to loathing that "Princess" nickname, but he never could seem to break it from the other.

It was only when the blonde spoke of wanting to meet Alfred for a late lunch did Gilbert consent to taking his leave; he probed if they wanted to get dinner, but, to his surprise, that meal was also taken care of for Arthur—by Alfred.

So _Eduard's_ was left behind, the white-haired male pulling his old, wool and tartan scarf around his neck tighter; it was not before he had taken five steps did a feeling wash over his thin, nearly lithe, body like a tidal-wave.

Stagnation.

…His life was becoming a pool of stagnation.

He could not help but face it head on, as his eyes wandered down the shops along the street—a hat boutique here, a barbershop there, a child's wonderment of toys on the corner.

It seemed, no, it _was _true…Everyone was moving on to something but him.

Ludwig; off, welcomed into a rich home, about to be married secretly to a childish Italian who would one day inherit a world that would change the _entire _world.

Arthur; merrily skipping along, finding love in another man who loved the sea as much as him. They would keep it private, so no one would bother them, but that could be accomplished, yes indeed!

And Gilbert? HA!

While the living lived on, and the dead stayed dead, he…

…He had a shack.

That was all he had to his name; a filthy piece of land carved out of nothing that was situated near the smog-inducing factories of the Industrial time, and the river that looked oh so appealing…

A sigh escaped pale lips; it was chilly enough now to where Gilbert could feel a shiver of wind from his thin jacket, a jacket that was losing its hold on reality; great, another expense to come!

And the sausage and cheese and bread…Oh Gods Above, he could smell Gaston the baker's newest treats, and how his mouth watered…Oh, how he long to have pounds in his pocket to purchase the goods of the Earth with, for he needed them dearly…

But no—He, like many, many others—had nothing.

Sure, perhaps he was no different than the homeless man on the corner, save for a house, and maybe he was no different from that woman and her brothel, or the poor beggar on the far corner. They were all poor, all had little to go after, chase after with a heart and soul.

Call Gilbert crazy, but he _wanted _more than this—frankly, he told himself day in and day out, he was too _awesome _for this. Too clever, too beautiful.

Maybe he was cocky; Arthur had certainly called him that little jab, but the elder—only by four months—had just laughed it off! It paid to be an optimist in this time, did it not? Or, at the very least, have an amazing sense of self.

For, truly, that is all it was—a sense of self. Pride in his being; and did he not have a right to that? For he had little else in this world—his brother was leaving, his best friend moving on to a life of romance, possibly on the high seas…What was left for _him_?

_Apparently very little…_

But as the sun began to peak out from behind the clouds once more, there was going to be a change—a change that would happen mere moments away, while he crossed another busy avenue, venturing towards a rickety bridge: a short-cut towards his home. Or shanty. Or his "villa", if he wanted to be humorous—which he did not.

But he would never even make it to the bridge; he would not even make it down the rest of the elongated street. Ruby eyes had little time to register as horse hooves sounded out louder and louder near his ears—were they ringing? Was this false? There were carriages everywhere, milling about, passing through London, the rich men and women passing through—for whom of them wanted to live _here_?

But the clopping got faster, the horses letting out loud cries, cries that grew louder as the seconds passed, for their driver was racing them through the streets and Gilbert turned, hearing a woman's voice—was she shouting? Shouting at whom?

…Apparently, it was him.

For she let out,

"Yoohoo! Yes, you! You stay right there, do not move an inch, SIR!"

Eyes locked onto his as a carriage sped closer, the driver hurrying along, past other pedestrian and carts and cabs, the woman's voice getting louder,

"Yes, you! The man with the white hair! Step no farther, I have something very important to say to you!"

He could not help but think: 'Who did I anger this time?' Was she the mother of a dame at a bar that he had hit on (For image, mind you—cleavage and small hips were no way to win Gilbert Beilschmidt over)? Or the wife of a debtor for whom his father had used to speak with and of?

No, oh no—She was quite different, as he was soon to find out.

Quite different indeed.

* * *

If it could be said that Adele and Frederich had fallen in love in the throes of passion, it could only be stated that Maria and Roland Edelstein had fallen in love via the throes…of convenience.

They were both of Austrian descent; her hair the fairest corn silk hue, his the color of mahogany; her eyes, a light blue, borderline mauve and violet. His a colder and sterner green pigment.

Opposites in color, but not opposites in necessity.

It had begun with a simple task—Roland being rich enough, powerful enough was thus in want of a wife of equal standing; he could not have someone he needed to prop up, oh, that would not do. Not do whatsoever. Where would he be if he had married…for _love_? That was becoming a trend these days, those silly children of England.

Then again, Roland had never been much of a Romanticist—profit, profit, profit his father had exclaimed!

And profit there was—The Edelstein clan had begun their proprietorship and businesses in their homeland; their largest and most promising mansion still located in Vienna. But Roland had, at the young age of twenty-five, having married Maria merely a year beforehand, ventured to the profitable nation of England.

The Edelstein fortune had been amassed through multiple fields; they had begun with crafting instruments, at first by hand, later being mass-produced in miniature, private shops, small factories, in a sense. Then came the idea from Maria's side of the family—branching out into toys; dollies and wooden trains exited factories and shops faster than any other company could comprehend.

And now, there was candy and treats; but their Edelstein-Trademark pianos were still the number one export and buy in all of English society; their ivory was the most profound and graced and bragged about, and Roland could not help but smirk to himself at the idea of having put every other company out of their league once he and his family had made their mark in England.

His parents had passed on before he had immigrated to the island country, and boy, was he grateful—for they had left him the will. All of what was _in_ the will. And it had given him what was needed to franchise the family business in ways thought unimaginable.

The instruments, the toys, the candy…it had made them rich. The rich society of London, York, Oxford, all of them! They were the keys to Roland's success; it now lead to him having a small house, his permanent residence, in Kingston upon Thames. A modest three story home, servants aplenty, décor of exquisite taste.

But he was now thirty or so minutes from there—in the heart of London, his cab and driver Jean coursing through the busy markets and streets; his eyes gazing out the carriage's window of pristine crystalline glass, a sigh coming from his lips.

"Dearest Maria, is this truly necessary?"

His wife let out a chuckle, her dainty fingers fluttering a fan in front of her face; Roland could recall how they had met (or had been arranged to meet): at a banquet held by his now-late Uncle; Maria's family was in the eau de cologne business, and their fortune and profits and business was now also combined with Roland's own. The lass had far from changed since that fateful night—their marriage partially arranged, partially of their own choice—but mostly it was due to the fact that their parents had stated what would be best for business, for their family's futures.

And that advice was heeded perfectly, neither he nor Maria objecting to the marriage idea. They had not known each other even five months before they were wed; Roland had to wonder how long it was that the parents had been planning such an idea between him and his bride. They had married at the age of eighteen, both of them, Roland aging a month later, she a year after him, their marriage of "monetary convenience" having been successful.

And now here they sat; the brunette male would, of course, admit it: he did love his wife, but the love had come afterwards, over time, and it was strong…but could it have been stronger? Profit, profit, profit, after all! They were wed due to money, not looks, charms, feminine wiles of love and amour. And he, of sound and stable mind, could not see it having gone any other route.

"Of course it is needed, darling. I told you last night that Roderich needs this."

Ah, yes, Roderich—every parent's fantasy of a perfect son. A master virtuoso, and was that truly a surprise? His parents had factories and shops that produced instruments, after all.

And he was the sole heir to the fortune—Maria had insisted on one heir, one and only, and it had to be a boy—she was adamant on having a son. God knows what would have happened if Roderich had turned out to be a Rochelle.

He was prim, proper, and Maria, in all her finery, doted on him like a mother-hen. As she was now.

"Dear. Another servant? Truly, is that necessary?"

The blonde female let out a tiny chortle, "Yes, Roland, for he needs a male servant."

Roland rolled his eyes, "And what will that do, hm? You want a male? He already has four, and why are we—no, _you_—searching for one out here in these…decrepit streets?"

The woman's amethyst necklace, a present for her forty-fifth (As if she looked the part!), glistened in the twelfth hour's sunlight, the clock gloriously chiming out the number in the afternoon; her orbs held a gleam of mirth, and a small chuckle once again echoed out in the stagecoach.

"Sweetheart, he needs a male servant because do you expect those four girls in his care already to do actual physical labor?"

"He has been fine for three years with those girls, why-"

Maria waved a hand dismissively, "Roland, Roland. I am not going to allow those girls to…clean that new barn, or do work to the house that requires sweat and blood and tears."

"But Maria-"

"Besides," The dame huffed, "I do not fully enjoy the fact that Roderich is in a house full of intelligent, quiet and beautiful women."

"…Whatever do you mean? You have not complained of the girls before."

Sea-hued eyes narrowed, "Roland, we both know that Mona Bonnefoy is very intelligent. Too intelligent for her own good. Belle is the only one who I feel completely at ease with, for she is the _least_ intelligent, but has the kindest heart, and, in my eyes, is the most beautiful. And Mei is too quiet—too quiet for her own good, and that goes for Natalia as well."

Roland sighed, "Darling, I understand your presumptions and thoughts, but-"

"We must not have any interference in what is to come, Roland. And we both know it is vital that Roderich is deterred from other…female beings."

"Do you honestly think he would even look at them? This is Roderich, my dear. He is too good for them."

A sigh, "I suppose, but…Roland, I wish not to take chances. And the harder labor must be taken care of, and by someone!"

"Alright, but then why are we looking _here_, care to explain that little detail?"

And this was when Maria put on a conspiratorial smile, "Darling, we are looking now for a male that will be incompetent enough to not cause harm, to possibly persuade one of the female maids to copulate with him, so Roderich has less of a chance of falling into a siren-esque dilemma, and the work involving the horses and the roof and even the other more butler-like duties get done! Roland, one more final servant is all Roderich needs, and then he shall be content when the marriage comes around in the summer. All of these traits that I have fore-stated will be found in a scrawny, illegitimate, poor citizen of London! Why look in the cream of the crop? They would just want to steal from our son, take away his heart, or his money, or whatever it is they long for! A daft urchin from off the streets should be not a problem."

"And you are assuming we can…train a 'daft urchin' into being a servant?"

"Why not? Roderich is a bright boy; you know he still might go to University, if he wishes."

Roland shook his head, "He has no time, Maria. He's busy with the work I am already giving him for the companies."

A languid sigh, "Well…At least he had his tutoring. But nevertheless, dear, we must find him a male servant. We shall look for the most ignorant-looking person upon these streets, and give them a chance of a lifetime, all the while using their lack of mentality for Roderich's benefit!" Her eyes gleamed in triumph, hands fisted closed in victory.

"Darling, again, there is the issue of there being hundreds of people out on these streets! You are…just going to pick one out of them all, and proclaim them to be the one? Just because they look…stupid enough for your tastes?" A sigh; poor Roland. He did dearly love his wife, but when it came to Roderich, logical fallacies would spring up. She would do anything for their boy, but sometimes it was just too much…Even he would step back now and then to make sure things were stable.

At that comment, Maria leaned out the closest window to her side of the carriage, shouting lightly, "Jean, will you take this down Charles Avenue? Please?" When the driver, his red curly-que's of hair bouncing up and down with a nod, responded, Maria seated herself more comfortably, smoothing out her pristine lemon-yellow day gown.

"I have heard from the servants back home that Charles Avenue is crawling with the type of persons I am looking for, for our dear son. There are multiple pubs on it, so we shall find the perfect person."

"Maria, what if he turns out to be _drunk_ when you approach him? Would that not be you taking advantage of him, if you gave him his proposition?"

"…" A pause, then the lass's mouth turned into a serious line, "Then we shall find a sober individual, if it pleases you more."

"Maria, were you _honestly thinking_-?"

The woman put up a gloved hand, "Hush, Roland, I was not thinking anything of the sort."

But the shine in her sea-colored eyes told the male Edelstein a different story…

In any case, it did not matter; Jean maneuvered the carriage around corners and down streets with nameless names to the rich family's minds. They were all generic, the same stale lands that they were too good to live in; they had never touched their cobblestones to obtain even the simplest goods—those were the tasks of servants, yes?

Maria sat up further once Charles Avenue had been reached, her eyes scanning the sidewalk for any sort of character that stood out to her; Roland, being of wise nature, chose not to get involved, but he would support his wife's ideas and fancies, despite disagreeing. Maria was a woman that was unstoppable, once an idea got into her head—she was a tidal wave of emotion, of power; and although her middle name was saintly, Theresa, she could turn into quite a dark woman, a witch, if needed be. Especially when it came to her son.

It was after some moments, perhaps five, did Maria give a sigh, her rosy lips on the verge of pouting, "Oh, Roland. I despair! I have not found a single-"

But she cut herself off, orbs widening like that of his grandmother's dinner plates from olden centuries, her lean body shooting upright, coming to lean out the window as she gasped out,

"Roland! Roland, I see him!"

He was perfect—shoulders slouching underneath a hair of white hair, and yet he was not old; she could just barely make out his profile, but it was not that of an elder, but a young man. His clothing ratty; a blue shirt that was thin, made of the simplest material peeking out from underneath a coat that belonged in a dumpster, or, even better, in the Thames.

His gait was that of a depressant, his boots holey, and about to fall off in pieces. She had caught just the glimmer of his eyes as he had exited the pub that looked as if it needed to be condemned by the state, and they were filled with a potpourri: of disgust, most likely at himself, or the world around him. Low intelligence—they failed to have that shine that Roderich's held. Depression, ache, maybe some mutiny of the heart, or worse, the actual body. He seemed to fail at impotency, at being celibate, too; and his hair! What was with that hair? White? Who had _white _hair?

_Failures, incompetent failures, that is who…! He is perfect!_

"JEAN! I want you to speed up, and do you see that male up ahead?" She stuck her head out the window, pointing at the figure who continued to walk away, "Speed up the horses, I must speak to him!"

"M-Maria-" Roland, in awe at this turn of events, tried to reach out his hand to calm his wife, but failed when she shouted,

"Yoohoo! Yes, you! You stay right there, do not move an inch, SIR!"

The loudness of her voice had caught the other male's attention, his eyes at first gazing around, looking for the source of the commotion that had begun; he finally locked onto Maria and the stage-coach's encroaching figure when the woman shouted,

"Yes, you! The man with the white hair! Step no farther, I have something very important to say to you!"

In another ten seconds, Jean had pulled up the coach to the sidewalk, 'Ooh's and 'Ahh's coming forth from the crowd that had amassed around the shocked figure, who stood stock still as the stage-coach, in all its fancy glory, stopped in front of his frozen-as-ice eyes and body.

The door flung open, and Maria's face greeted the lad, who could not possibly be over the age of twenty-five, from her immediate estimate; putting on her perfect actress smile (And hoping that that rank stench that hit her nostrils was not the man in front of her), she spoke demurely,

"You, Sir, are exactly what I am looking for!"

"U-Uh…Listen, I-"

"Oh, hush, hush, climb into this, please! We must not waste any time, come, come!"

"H-Hey, I don't even know you-HEY!"

Maria Theresa Bingham-Edelstein was known for being partially demure, but also partially spontaneous—and she showed that side, a side she was proud of, when she wasted no time, grabbing the boy by the front of his jacket, dragging him into the carriage with all her strength, moving quickly to Roland's side of the carriage, so the new guest had the other bench seat all to himself; the door, shutting immediately afterwards, rang out with a semi-loud bang, and Maria shouted out the window,

"Jean, take us to Roderich's place immediately! I have a new object for his use!"

It was only Roland who noticed how the albino male hunched up, eyes wide in terror, hands clawing at the plush, maroon seats of the carriage, the cherry wood surrounding him making his hair of purest rarity standing out like fire in the middle of the night.

And it took all of that boy's strength, at least, in the elder male's eyes, to murmur,

"W-Who the hell are you people?"

* * *

A/N: And so, it begins! I'll be putting up chapter two shortly, along with all of the other chapters :) I hope you enjoy what's to come and comments are always welcome.

Ta-Ta until the next one!


	2. Assumption

A/N: And on to chapter two! Your reviews and comments are so appreciated, thank you so much! And I'm glad many of you enjoy Roland and Maria, that is wonderful to hear!

Music Inspiration for Chapter 2:

Becca: "I'm Alive" (Kuroshitsuji ending)

30 Seconds to Mars: "Savior"

Sara Bareilles: "King of Anything" (Inspires future chapters as well)

* * *

2

Assumption

* * *

_'But I don't want to go among mad people,' said Alice. _

_'Oh, you can't help that,' said the cat. _

_'We're all mad here.'_

_- Lewis Carroll_

* * *

Gilbert knew it would happen eventually. He had just known…

…That he would eventually be kidnapped by insane patrons of a rich slave trade, and ship him off to Siam.

And he had thought just that idea when he had been dragged into the carriage, the woman in front of him gleaming like a child in a candy store, and he knew his fate was sealed.

"Oh, my dear, you have not heard of us?" Oh, she was so polite, this bat-shit-insane woman, was she not? Just sitting there, next to a man with a stern gaze and even stronger moustache that looked as if it could come alive at any second, grow eyes, and hop away.

"…No. Should I have?"

The woman let out giggles that caused her lightly-curly golden tresses to bounce, "Oh, Roland, love, he has not heard of us!"

"Maria, not everyone in this part of town knows us. You should not be so surprised." It was duly noted by the albino that the male did not join in on his 'love's' chortles.

The woman let out a sigh, a sigh that oozed contempt for the failing-to-have-knowledge Gilbert, "Fine, fine. Dear boy, I am Maria Theresa Edelstein; the man on my left is my husband, Roland Edgar Edelstein. Do those names ring familiar?"

The youngest of the trio's lips went into a frown; in all honesty, those names did sound a tad familiar to the Prussian, but still…

_Edelstein, Edelstein…it sounds so familiar, but…_

It was as if his memory was in a fog; he could see his father, coming into his consciousness like a stroke of a match, but…

…There were his hands, yes…holding something.

Lightly shaking his head, the image vanished; he could concentrate on it later,

"Unfortunately, I can't recall that name, sorry."

Another sigh from Maria, "My dear, we are the family that has created musical instruments in this town for decades, how could you not know us? Or my mother's famous perfume 'recipe'? Or my brother-and-law's new toy ideas? Or-"

But Gilbert stopped hearing her after she spoke of instruments, for then..

…It all came back, in a hazy blur…

_Frederich was proud, proud of the violin he had acquired; Edelstein, genuinely made, the inscription of the company proudly inscribed upon the back of the instrument, in gold lettering._

"_Father, will…Will you teach me, now?"_

"_Ah, yes. I did promise that, did I not?" Frederich had no premonition of his illness to come, and he could only focus on the gleam in his son's eyes as he gazed upon the pristine violin, a gift that he had bought for himself and his two sons, with having saved up a great deal of money over the past few months. "I promised to teach you Bach's 'Chaconne', yes?" _

"_Yes, that was it."_

_Frederich had taught him how to hold the masterpiece of an instrument with the utmost care, deft fingers, smoother in these early years, caress the strings, the bow, the wood of finest quality that glimmered like stardust in the late evening light. Gilbert's chin fit perfectly on the resting holder; it was as if the violin had become an extension of his body._

_The first notes were jarring, as were the second and third…_

…_He would learn it in the week, though…_

_The notes of the Chaconne would float through their modest house, Ludwig not able to help himself, peaking in through doorways to glance at his brother, the albino seated upon a chair, drawing out notes of joy, then melancholy, then more happiness…_

_It would be tragic when they would have to yank the violin from poor Gilbert's hands when Satan's debtors came knocking months later…_

"_GIVE IT BACK, PLEASE. PLEASE!"_

…So, that was it—he was right back where he started, in a sense.

The creators of the most precious joy he had found in his family, the music his father would constantly play on that violin, it came from these two…

It was a disappointing fact that Gilbert had only learned that one song—Frederich had failed to have time to teach him further.

But now…it was a highly interesting circle…

To be in the same carriage as the creators of that…instrument…

"…What do you want with me?" The haunting memories had sapped the Beilschmidt's strength, so the probing was muted, his shoulders slightly slumped.

"Why, you are in a great position!" Maria joyfully replied, "We are going to be offering you a job!"

A snowy eyebrow quirked, "Job?"

It was actually the patriarch figure that spoke up next, "My wife and I are in wont of a servant—for our son."

"Yes, yes! And we think you would be most capable of completing this job!" Maria chimed in, her falsehood shining perfectly—oh, she figured this lad would be perfect: because he was stupid enough. I mean, really? He did not even know them? HA!

"…How do I know that this isn't a scam?"

The elders glanced at one another, Maria's gaze firmer, stern, giving a command; Roland knew what it was, and reached into his inner coat pocket. What appeared was a yellowed-off-white envelope, sealed with a stamp of red, the letter R standing out immediately.

"Your first three weeks' salary," The male spoke up with, "It is not much, remember. For you are just starting out, and you are a servant. You will be given room and board, and three or four meals to eat after your work is completed. You will have multiple chores, whatever our son sees fit for you to do."

Tentatively, Gilbert stretched out bony fingers, clasping the envelope, tearing it open with the utmost care; inside, notes upon notes of English pounds were piled into the small packet, and the Beilschmidt audibly gasped.

He had never seen this much money all at once ever…Not even when his parents had been alive had they amassed this much and left it out for Gilbert to visibly see, so now…now…

"…How much is this?"

"Three weeks salary? That would be…" Roland paused, thinking over the amount again in his head, "One-hundred-fifty pounds. Fifty pounds a week."

Silence enveloped the carriage, the Edelstein couple gazing upon the shell-shocked albino child, who could only blink in a frozen stupor.

"…You're serious." A statement, not a question.

"Of course; we may have a great deal of money, but that does not mean we shall fling it about, boy." Maria stated haughtily, "By the way, what is your name? Age?"

"…G-Gilbert Beilschmidt, miss. Twenty-three."

"Well, Gilbert Beilschmidt, what are you going to say? Or do, in this case?" The blonde lass once again began to daintily fan her face, hiding her crafty smile, "It is not an easy job. My Roderich is not the easiest Master at all—but he pays handsomely, as you can see. Well…This is from us. He shall be paying you in the future, or we shall, if he needs us to at some points. "

"…" Yes, what _was_ he going to say?

Ruby eyes glanced out the window; the stage-coach was leaving the smelly and tired and industrialized parts of London behind. Out there, back there, was his shanty; back there was cold bread, and even colder porridge and eggs and blankets. Back there were memories he would rather bury in the backyard of a cemetery and never dig up again; Hell, he would throw away the shovel and swallow the key. Misery was best un-relived.

And _out there_…

Out there was his brother, somewhere. Living a dream that both had joked about for years; 'I'm gonna marry this rich girl one day, Lud!' he would say, laughing, most likely over a bottle of gin or beer or whatever they could get their hands on.

But now…Now it was actually happening. They were actually gaining lives…

Ludwig was finding romance in a man…They would be secretly married, so only they would know, but it would mean the world to them, it would mean Eternity to them! No one else had to know, or if they did, it was just the family that knew, and all of the Vargas clan (Save for the elder twin of Feliciano, named Lovino) loved the blond German male!

And Arthur, he was going to go on grand adventures, Gilbert could just see it! On a ship, the captain of it, while this Alfred bloke was by his side, choosing ports, places, palaces!

…And he…

…Well, it _was_ a servant job. He was to not have a cushy life, not yet. But at fifty pounds a week…

…And actual warm meals…

…A real bed…

…And the rich side of life; the aristocracy of the nation would be at his finger-tips, he would see it firsthand! The parties, the elegance, the life-style that existed on the other side of the River that had always been just so close…

And he had nothing left to go back to…What was back in the heart of London for him…?

_Nothing…_

"…I'll do it." A short sentence that dropped like a stone into the cab, Roland giving a demure nod and smile, Maria hardly containing her grin as she stated,

"I hypothesized that that would be your answer."

* * *

The rest of the ride to destination-unknown, in a sense, was spent in quiet chatter; Maria and Roland asked little of Gilbert's past, only the basics: Was he a common criminal? Had he done any illegalities? Was his family (or had it been) of good standard?

Gilbert embellished the first two questions—he spoke not of his lazily-attempted arson trials that had popped up out of sheer boredom over the years; nor did he mention his two-night stint with female whores—and the rest of his stints with the secret _male_ harlots of the town. And he was a drinker, that was true—and Maria knew that he was, for he had been spotted coming out of a pub. But that topic was only breached lightly, Gilbert being told that unless Roderich allowed it, he was not to consume a drop of liqueur in the home.

His parents were spoken of sporadically, Gilbert not wanting to truly speak of them, due to fresh wounds being opened up recently, with the whole violin-Edelstein connection clicking quickly—almost too quickly for his liking. But the white-haired male stated that they had passed on to the Other Side, and that he had a brother who knew the Vargas family quite well. Apparently, the Edelstein familial members had heard of the Vargas clan as well, and nodded their heads with approval.

At the end of the fifteen minute journey, the land had passed Gilbert by; bridges had been crossed, rivers underneath his feet, the city of London being left behind in the carriage's dust; now, around his head were trees upon trees. Pines and Oaks decorated the sides of the road, itself becoming dusty and dirty under the wooden wheels. There was a scent of nature untouched by human hands in this area, this land, and it was magnificent. He could smell clean, pure water; there must have been a lake nearby, or…or…

His mind failed to think farther—There, out his window, stood the house that had to be where he was staying; especially since Jean stopped the horses with a "Woah" and a click of the reins.

Without waiting for an invitation to leave the stage-coach, Gilbert opened the door lightly, stepping out first, to stare at the three-story Victorian style mansion before him…

…And the first thing he noticed…Was…

"…It's pink."

Well, sort of; the outer walls were a light color, border-line pink; it was extremely, extremely light, and from a distance looked almost light brown, with hints of mauve and red. But no, up close, it was the basest of pinks, decorated with white terraces and balconies on all three stories; windows and trim held green, a sort-of-teal color that was dark enough to outset the pink and white and bits of brown in-between. Shutters at the front of the house were a dark maroon, the perfect counter-balance to the main colors. There was a dome atop the house at one point, the rest, the most, of the roof being pointed and sloping, and Gilbert could glance stair-wells in multiple windows—And my oh my, were there plenty of windows! He could not count them all!

Its style was nearly Gingerbread-like, so crafty, delicious, as if the entire housing company had put their souls into making it; fine detail, like the railings and their curves, or the two chimneys that the Beilschmidt could spot at the back of the house.

And there was land, so much land. The front yard was of medium-size, a good quality, but he could tell that there was a large back yard behind the trees that blocked some view; and he could have sworn that there had been a sound of an animal or two in the distance.

There was little snow out here, it had melted into puddles in obscure corners of the land; his feet only were able to touch dirt, pebbles, his eyes only trained on the house standing before him.

"Magnificent, is it not?" Roland spoke with pride, the grin evident in his voice as he helped his wife down from the carriage, her ring-adorned hand fitting into his perfectly; Gilbert noticed this little trademark of them, and felt a sting of envy.

_But I'm used to being alone…_He reminded himself, shaking off the stab to his being; he had prided himself on making sure he could survive on his own, even more so when Ludwig had left, and Arthur's visits had decreased when his business (And instances of mentioning Alfred) had increased.

"…It's lovely." It was all he could say—it was true, but the shock that came with his situation was coming back to him; he had been swept up by people who probably thought they were his saviors; they were doing this for their son, though, he recalled—not him. If anything, he was just another nameless soul that they could use—or have their son use—for whatever they needed.

It was a good setup—he would be better off, because he had nothing to return too…Even if he wanted to; even if the work broke his back, he had nothing, and _they knew this_…So why would he leave?

"Yes, lovely!" Maria clapped her hands together, "Oh, Roland, must we wait for one of the girls to come in and greet us?" The dame let a pout come upon her lips.

"Maria, you know-" Roland spoke no more, for then, the screen door opened, a female head appearing the doorway.

"Ah? OH!" She scuttled out of the house, her dark green, plain, and stained, dress blowing and billowing behind her; her short wheat-colored locks were pulled back in an old headband of dark-red. "My Lady! Sir! We were not expecting you!"

She came to a stop in front of the Edelstein couple, giving a deep courtesy, "What brings you here?"

Maria gave a polite nod of the head, "Belle, good afternoon. Is Roderich free?"

"Ah? Y-Yes, Ma'am! He was practicing piano in the music room at the back of the home, my Lady." The young woman, of the rosy age of twenty-two, clasped her hands together, giving a nod of her head.

"Good. Take us inside. We apologize for not letting you know ahead of time that we were coming for a visit. But it was…a tad spontaneous and important."

"Oh, no explanation needed, My Lady! None at all! Please, follow-"

But Belle stopped herself, glancing over Maria's shoulder at the albino male standing next to Roland, "My Lady, if I may ask-"

"He is to be Roderich's new male servant around the home. But…He is to wait on the porch until after we speak to our son, understood, Belle?"

The maid gave a curt, yet polite nod, "Of course My Lady." Giving a bow, she stepped back towards the door, the parents of her Master following an immediate distance behind her.

Gil was hesitant to follow closely, and follow at all in general—but he did so, stopping at the porch steps while the others in his company ascended them. He dared not stray any closer, not without permission, or some sort of sign.

Said sign came in the form of Maria Theresa, turning her head over her shoulder, giving the albino male a furtive glance,

"Belle shall keep you company here while we speak with our son. I shall send another one of his girls to bring you into the house, understood? Oh and…wipe your feet before you enter into my son's home. Just because you are going to be a servant does not mean you will drag mud onto his clean floors, he—and I—despise such atrocious behavior."

She said no more, straightening her back and entering the home with a gay smile, her behavior going to contempt of Gilbert to pure and motherly joy; she was a chameleon, in all senses of the word, striving for perfection; some of it was an act, some of it was pure, but it was all _her_.

Roland followed with a meek sigh, closing the door behind him; Gilbert finally found it safe to step onto the porch of green and white; there was a hanging swing set built into the ceiling of the porch, but he dared not even touch it. He also tried not to notice how the servant girl who had remained behind had her eyes trained on his figure, a dainty and quaint smile on her fully-plump lips.

"You seem nervous, mister…?"

"Uh, Gilbert…Just call me Gilbert."

A soft, cheery giggle, "Just call me Belle. And you have nothing to worry about, Master Roderich is truly a wonderful Master. He will do nothing to harm you, not at all! You can trust me!"

"…Right."

He wanted to trust her; she seemed like a nice girl—a naïve girl, but a nice girl, with her pretty frame and face; Gilbert could not help but wonder what a little flower like her was stuck in a place like this. Her accent and tone were certainly not from the English-side of the world. He would have to ask her about her origins later…When he was not so concerned about the joyous shouts he heard from in the house.

"Hey…" Belle spoke up again, stepping closer, "Trust me. Working under him will be fine-"

"Do you…call him 'Master'?" It was a pointed question, and Gilbert did not mean to interrupt her, but the words had been on his tongue ever since he had seen the girl come from the house.

"Why, of course! Sometimes it is Master Roderich, or Master Edelstein; 'Mister' is more casual, he will let that slide once in a while, but it is tradition to use Master. We are, after all, his servants. We serve him."

"…Of course."

Another obstacle; to have to call someone 'Master'…

As much as Gilbert was torn between wanting to be alone, and wanting company, he had always been his _own _Master…

And now he would have to bow, no, cow-tow to someone…

…Another side-back with the job, he supposed.

"You seem troubled by that, Gilbert. But…you are new at this, yes?"

"If by new, you mean never had to call someone…that before, then yes. I am new at it."

Belle gave a small nod, "Indeed. It is a feeling you get used to, do not fret. Besides, it will be an honor to say it to Master Roderich; he will make sure that as long as you work hard, no harm will ever befall to you."

…A feeling you get used to…

He supposed that was it…

But…

It was a feeling he _had_ to get used to…

Had to…

…Gilbert Beilschmidt _had_ to get used to _this_…

…Had to get used to bowing to another man, who had a castle…Who was the _king_ of said castle…

…Oh well…

….At least it was better than getting used to being alone forever…

…Right?

* * *

It was glorious, this afternoon; how the sunlight streamed in through the large windows at the back of the house; Roderich Edelstein found the light to be a perfect atmosphere, the rays glistening over his limber fingers; the notes of Chopin's _Funeral March_ echoed out from his family's namesake-grand-piano. Although the music was sober, and a complete contrast of his mood and the weather surrounding his body, it was eloquent nonetheless. If anything, Roderich was more pleased. Somber and softer tunes, of sorrow and despair, had a special place in his heart; they were fitting to him in many moods; in a delighted mood, they would cause him to reflect on the past, on the world, on his downfalls. But when his mood matched the music, there was sympathy in what Schubert and Beethoven had written years and years ago…

He loved it all; the sonatas that sent radiant ecstasy through his veins at their joyous notes, their pounding, jarring symphonies that could bring a room to a standstill…

Piano was his instrument of choice, but there was his cherished violin, viola and cello also in the music room; he had dabbled in the flute, and even the harp, although that was more his mother's instrument and forte than his. He was a virtuoso who, at twenty-seven, was already beginning to compose his own musical pieces in his spare time, normally after his work for his family's business was complete.

It was the most perfect afternoon; Mona had just brought him a cup of tea, the fine china (A gift from a renowned colleague, Honda Kiku) sparkling on top of the piano…Mm, perhaps after this, he would play _Fantasie_…Or _Moonlight Sonata_…

"Master Roderich! Master Roderich!"

That was Mei—was she not supposed to be cleaning the banisters, like he had so asked? But no, here she was, running into the music room, her peach gown and white apron fluttering behind her fast steps.

"Yes, Mei?"

The immigrant from Taiwan gave a quick bow, stating hurriedly, "L-Lady Maria and Lord Roland…Y-Your parents have arrived, Sir! I-I had to come and announce them, I know there was no invitation, b-but-!"

"W-What?" Violet eyes (A trait not researched as of late—But Roland believed his great-uncle had once had purple irises) blinked behind small spectacles, and immediately after standing up from the bench, began to straighten his brunette locks, "T-They are-?"

"RODERICH~!" A joyous cry, and lo and behold, yes, it was his mother, who ran into the music room with such glee and no invitation, latching herself around her son in such a bear-tight hug that Roderich started in surprise.

"M-Mother? W-What…What on Earth-?"

"Oh, DARLING, how _ARE _you?" Maria's jeweled hands coming up to cup her son's thin cheeks, "Oh, Roderich, you have been eating, yes? You look so thin!"

"M-Mother, I'm in clear health, do not be alarmed, but why on Earth are you here-"

"OH, it is so wonderful to finally see you! How long as it been, Roland? Two months? Three?"

"Actually three and a half, my dear." Roderich gazed in front of his being, past Maria, to see his stern father standing in the doorway, a bemused expression on his face at his wife's happiness and exuberance that came from reuniting with her son.

"Oh, so long, so very, very long! Too long! Darling, are you well? Please, tell your dear mother that you are!"

"Of course, of course, why ever would you worry about that?" The youngest of the Edelstein clan remarked, "Surely you did not drop in because you were so worried about me?"

At this, the blonde woman took a step back, her smiling going from heavenly bliss to one of sneaky plotting, "Oh, darling, we actually have a surprise for you!"

"…Surprise?" Why did a pit the size of the Austrian mountainside just drop into Roderich's stomach?

"Oh yes, yes, yes! I had a glorious idea come to me, just this morning! For, I said to myself, 'My darling son needs more help around the house'-"

"Mother, _no_. " Roderich put a hand to his head, sighing, "Mother, I am not in wont of more maids, I hope you realize that."

"Maid? Ha, who _ever_ said it was a _maid_?"

The pit suddenly _grew_—not just in size, but it grew _leaves_…And _branches_...

"…Mother…" A warning tone, and the brunette looked to his aged father for help, but the man just let out a sigh and a shake of his head, as if to say, 'this was not _my_ idea!'

"Now, now, dear, do not use that tone of voice with me!" The Austrian woman proclaimed firmly, "You should realize that this is a magnificent idea! Were you really expecting the girls to take care of everything around here, including the manual labor? Which, I must say, has the word 'man' in it!"

"Mother, I have had this place for three years as of last week," Roderich pointedly replied, straightening out his dark-purple jacket, it having been a tad wrinkled by his mother's advancements, "You gave me this house after it was custom-built, along with the four women under my care and supervision, so it would be run efficiently while I worked. Why must you add another? And why now?"

"Darling, it occurred to me—why have women take care of the horses? And what if the house becomes damaged in a storm, what then? You truly expect Natalia or Belle to climb upon a ladder and fix a leaking roof? Or what if a window breaks; do you expect them to help repair it then? Or the floor, or the attic? And what about the future, Roderich? In five years, you might have children-"

"Mother, we must not, or need to, speak of the future." A tired sigh, and it took all of Roderich's strength not to roll his eyes at his doting maternal figure, "But…I do see your point. I suppose I have been…lucky so far, in what shape the house has been."

"And you may not be lucky for long! Who knows, right? Well, we Edelsteins are quite lucky, but still! But nonetheless, we have found the perfect man for your home! Oh BELLE, please, show our guest in!"

The front door was heard opening with a short squeak, Belle's charming voice ringing out, "This way, please!"

And there he was—years later, he would look back on their first bit of eye-contact as being…well. A short-coming to the start of their relationship. It was certainly not the best way, that was for sure…

But mauve eyes locked onto ruby, Roderich's body giving somewhat of a start at the young male's appearance; his hands, fisted in ratty and tatty pockets of dark navy pants, shoulders slightly slumped; both blinked at one another, even more so when the white-haired (White hair!) male straightened up to remove his scarf, looking Roderich firmly and coldly in the eye.

"Darling, this is Gilbert! Is he not the most perfect candidate you have ever seen?"

"…A-Ah…M-Mother?"

"Yes, dear?"

The whole room was on edge, waiting for the young master's response; Mei and Belle stood in a far corner of the room, hands folded neatly at their laps, waiting for the next command. Gilbert himself stood up a little straighter, and there was a ghost of a smirk upon his face—he too was waiting for a first impression from the aristocrat, who had already made quite an impression on him as well:

Neat.

Pristine.

Perfectionist.

Orderly. The house showed that one, too.

Excelled at all he touched and tried.

Oh yes, these were hypotheses—but Gilbert Beilschmidt would bet hard money that they were right.

"W-Where…Where did you find this man?" Roderich exclaimed, "He looks as if you picked him up off the streets! When the maids were brought to me, they were well dressed and refined! And he is…He…He is not… And…And his looks! Good Lord, Mother, he looks like a mutated human!"

"RODERICH SEBASTIAN EDELSTEIN!" Maria gasped, her shriek echoing out in the halls; the maids joined in on her, gasping in unison at the remark; Roland merely shook his head, nearly having predicted the reaction.

The only one who did not visibly show anger or shock or even hurt was Gilbert himself—he had been predicting such a reaction all the way as well; with his looks and his clothes, he was expecting the Roderich Edelstein, whose praises had been sung to him by the choir on the entire ride over, to react with disdain.

"M-Mother, I-"

"Roderich, this man…this man-"

"Oi, don't worry about it! I can take an insult!"

All heads turned; yes, it was he, the actual man spoken of, he, Gilbert Beilschmidt, who had made the comment. Violet eyes blinked, dark brows furrowing, and Roderich countered with,

"Well, it was not meant as a insult, per se, but you are rather…shabby looking. Plain looking."

"And you look and act like you stepped out of the Queen's palace, Your _Highness_."

"E-Excuse me?"

"You heard me, Specs. It's a real pleasure to meet you, by the way. Lovely to know that I'll be 'taken care of' with words like _that_."

"Well," Roderich huffed, "When you spend your days dressed like _that_, and with hair like _that_, what do you honestly expect me to say to you, Sir?"

Back and forth, like an extreme tennis match, the bites went; Maria and Roland having mouths both agape at the scene before them; Belle and Mei cowered in fear—it was unlike their master to start a war of words with many people, save for their neighbor Vash.

"How about a 'pleasure to meet you'? Or 'Glad to have you under my service'? Hell, your parents were nicer to me than you! And they just kidnapped me off the street and gave me this position!"

"HA! Well, that explains my immediate disgust. A street urchin. A mutated street urchin-"

"For your information, you ignorant priss, I'm an albino. AL-BI-NO!"

"Oh, please, like that information is of any use to me!" Roderich waved a hand dismissively, deciding to ignore the man in front of him in order to turn towards his mother, "Mother, do you see this? THIS is why servants must be hired from reliable sources; they turn out to be incompetent fools like this one!"

"Excuse me, if I may interrupt, just to say…I am standing _right in front of you_, in this very room!"

But the man in the purple jacket ignored the blatant shout from the albino to speak to his mother again, "You honestly expect me to keep this man now? Mother, Father, he has blatantly insulted me in front of you both, he is rebellious, crude-"

"B-But Roderich…" And here, a new side of Maria was formed; a shy, guilty side, "W-We already paid him…"

"…How much did you pay him?"

"…One hundred fifty pounds."

"WHAT?"

"Oh, Roderich, please! You must keep him, he is perfect!"

Gilbert at this point found it an opportune time to speak, "If anyone is wondering-"

"NO ONE ASKED YOU!" Roderich shouted back, as retaliation, "I am certainly not keeping some derelict of a man in my home, under the title of 'servant'!"

"Dere-what?"

The brunette rolled his eyes, "Unintelligent too. Lovely."

"Excuse me? Look, you stupid aristocrat!" Gilbert shouted, marching closer to Roderich, said male shorter and frightened at the approach, "I don't give a flying damn if you insult my looks, or my attitude, but you will not strike down my intelligence!"

"OH?" Roderich crossed his arms, huffing out a breath, "And pray tell, why not?"

"Because it is awesome! And frankly, it is far higher than yours!"

"Oh, of _course _it is-"

"Damn right it is! I did not insult a possible-servant the moment he stepped through the door!"

A flare of pure Hellfire-rage shot through the youngest Edelstein's veins, and he could not help but glare at the man in front of him, "How dare you, you ignorant buffoon, do you know who I _am_?"

"No, but you're going to know who _I_ am in about five seconds!"

"ALRIGHT, ENOUGH!" It was Roland Edelstein who spoke up this time, choosing to step fully into the room and slam the cover of Roderich's piano down as a deterrent for future violence; he then proceeded to grab his son's arm, and dragged him to a farther point in the room, near the windows.

"Son, you must think of what you are saying," He whispered to the younger, "We cannot go back on our word to this boy, our honor would be tarnished!"

"I cannot believe you already paid him-"

"Son, it was your mother, in all honesty! I had not a clue she wanted to do this!"

A tired sigh from Roderich, "…How much have you promised him?"

"Fifty pounds a week. And he is under your full control. And think of it like this…You might be able to show some discipline to him, if this…impetuous behavior continues to exist."

"…" That was true; he could order the fool around as harsh punishment, or slacken his meals if he did argue…Not to a cruel point, no, but enough to where he could teach a lesson…

"And you know now he will not bow out. There is no other way!"

Indeed, there was no other way; Roderich could vaguely over-hear his mother and that…_thing _talking; he was relentless, he would not leave—he had already been promised the money, the house, the meals, in exchange for work. In other words…

Roderich's hands were tied.

"…I have no choice, then. Mother, how foolish!" Roderich cursed under his breath, and did not take back said curse, even after his father's disapproving look gazed upon his face.

"Son, please, just remain calm," Firm hands rested upon the brunette young-male's shoulders, "And _remember who you are_…"

"…Of course." A slight, curt nod, "I understand. I shall handle the situation, Father."

"Good. Besides, make it so you get some use from him, heh."

A small smile, "Perhaps I can actually tame him, somewhat, too?"

"You are an Edelstein. I would not dispute the fact you could at least make him mannerly, if not a reputable human being."

Roderich only responded with another positive tilt of the head, finally turning to his attention to Gilbert with a firm, "Alright, listen."

"Yes?" The other could not help but spit out venomously, garnet eyes locking with amethyst, "Has the gracious king decided something?"

A slight, miffed chuckle echoed from the shorter and richer male, "For a man who has nothing, you are quite a spoiled brat. But, yes, I have decided something—you will be kept upon as part of my staff, because I frankly have no choice. As my father stated, it would bring dishonor to my family name if I just…broke a promise, even if it was to some creature like you."

"…Anything else? Or are you going to degrade me further?" Gilbert hissed.

"And why should I not? You come in here and insult-"

"YOU insulted ME first!"

"…And I have that privilege, you know." Roderich stepped closer, "You should be thankful my darling mother picked you up. You will be working for an Edelstein, and if you keep your head down, and do what I tell you, you might actually end up in a decent position."

"I'm highly doubtful you would do a thing for me."

"And I am highly doubtful you would do a thing for me, unless you were being paid to do so. Now, where are your things?" The glasses-adorning man sniffed, "You certainly actually have possessions, yes?"

"Well, I did. But they're back-…" Gilbert need not say anything further, for the other held up his thin hand,

"We shall buy you new clothes, then. Because looking at your current attire, I can assume what you have at your 'home' leaves much to be desired. Natalia will be sent with some money to buy you new clothes, a uniform of sorts. Understood?"

"Yes. Where's my bed?"

A huff, "You will be shown the home after my parents leave. I shall be entertaining them in the living room; you are to remain in the kitchen until I state otherwise, understood…Gilbert?"

A nod was the only answer, but it did not suit Roderich's patience; a curious smile quipped itself upon his face, and he murmured, "Let us start with something now, Gilbert. You will respond to me with 'Yes, Master Roderich' from now on. Perhaps if…I actually grow to enjoy your company, like I do with Mei and Belle," Here he nodded towards the women in question, "You may call me other things. But for now…" And he lifted a hand, a hand adorned with a single ring encrusted with a purple gem; it was a silent command, and instantly, Gilbert felt a flash of anger, his body on the verge of shaking. How dare this…this…this…

"…Yes, Master Roderich."

"Very good." The brunette seemed pleased, "Belle, Mei, keep our new charge company in the kitchen, will you? And tell Natalia she may go shopping with the money I left upon the kitchen counter for young men's clothing. If I am needed, please ask Mona to be of assistance, yes?"

"Very well, Sir." The girls chorused in synch, giving dainty curtsies just as Roderich took his mother, still frazzled from the fighting, by the hand, leading her to the living room, not giving one glance back at the three servants, his father exiting the room behind him.

"…" Gilbert spoke not a word, but his stature spoke volumes; shaking with distilled rage, hands clenched tightly enough to where his bitted and nubby nails were digging into a callused palm, "How…He…That…"

Eyes were alight with fire; the twenty-three year old had never felt this humiliated in his life—ever.

"…G-Gilbert, oh please! Please, do not be upset!" Belle was the first to speak of the two girls remaining in the room, and, like an older—or younger?—sister, she placed a hand on his shoulder, bending down a tiny bit, for she was a few centimeters taller than Gilbert, "Master Roderich rarely yells, and he never yells at women-"

"But I'm not a woman. And he has more respect for proper ladies than…" He trailed off, not wanting to finish the sentence with a degrading noun; instead, he turned on his heel, looking away from the windows, the bright light, the majesty of the grand piano and other various violins and violas and instruments neatly placed about, or in their boxes; he could only murmur, "Which way is the kitchen?"

Mei took him by the arm, brushing back her long, chocolate-hued tresses from her shoulder, "Come, this way."

Belle took his other side, and Gilbert realized how weak his knees had become at the recent squabbling and turn of events…

He had to wonder if the Mother of God had become this weak at her own personal Assumption into a Kingdom of Heaven…

…But it Gilbert's case…

It was a _supposed_ Kingdom of Heaven…

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A/N: And here is our first introduction to Roderich, the maids, and the home! Thanks so much for reading, I'll be editing and posting chapter 3 shortly!


	3. Your Duty

A/N: And here is number three! Thanks so much for the early support, it's made me so happy!

Another pairing you should expect in the distant future: Franada. ;D

**Song Inspiration** for Chapter 3:

Fireflight: "Unbreakable"

Emilie Autumn: "Opheliac"

System of a Down: "Soldier Side"

Oh, and because someone asked-Yes, Mona is the country of Monaco :) Mei is Taiwan, Belle is Belgium, and Natalia is Belarus, of course.

I will be responding to reviews this weekend, thanks! And to the anon reviewer who I cannot respond to:

I thank you for your constructive criticism; although I disagree with you highly, I will take it into account :) And I thank you for the praise.

Enjoy!

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3

Your Duty

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_How blessed are some people, whose lives have no fears, no dreads; to whom sleep is a blessing that comes nightly, and brings nothing but sweet dreams._

_- Bram Stoker_

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They actually had cordial conversation in the kitchen; Gilbert was pleasantly surprised, extremely surprised. Mei had served him warm green tea, in the prettiest and most porcelain of cups that he had ever seen.

It turned out the two girls with him were somewhat better off, but had his same roots; Belle was, in accordance with a guess to her origins, from Belgium, her accent showing it heavily. She had immigrated to the country of England at the age of sixteen, to escape an abusive and arguing brother; she had come from a middle-class family, and middle-class is where she stayed in England, but had made the right connections and impressions—she had been passed from home to home as a maid, until she had wandered into the care of Maria Edelstein, after their long-dear friend had passed on to the Heavens, and Belle's skills as a house-maid were up for grabs. From there, the emerald-eyed lass wound up under Roderich's services, with few complaints. Because of her high respect from her past Mistresses and Masters, the brunette warmed to her immediately; her quiet demeanor and cute face just added to her appeal. Although she could be clumsy, especially when nerves kicked in (Oh, the last dinner party!), she always made up for it in the end.

Mei was a bit of a different situation—she had been sold to the English country, to a Master who was the polar opposite of Roderich, and even his family; her brother Kaoru suffered the same fate, both of them in the same household until their Master inexplicably died; rumored, surprisingly, to have been a suicide. It was not the end of Mei's troubles, though—once their rough and rouge of a master was dead to the world, her brother and her were taken away, separated by the estate managers. To this day, Mei had not once laid eyes upon her sibling, even though it had been over seven years since their last seeing of each other; she had been eleven at the time, and she could still see Kaoru being dragged away, apparently to some other Asian family, while she went off to another English one.

"This is his picture, Mister Gilbert." She calmly stated, pulling out an old black-and-white photograph of a child that was, according to the writing on the back, of thirteen years of age. With dark-chocolate hair, and even darker eyes, and had the…the…

"S'got some big eyebrows."

"AH?" Mei started, then looked at the picture, then sighed; "Ay, he does, he does. The bushiest ones. "

"Actually, I know a guy with those same eyebrows!" He was of course, referring to Arthur, and they continued on in jolly conversation, unable to help themselves and their giggles when it came to Kaoru and Arthur's facial appearance.

But all humor and revelry was cut short when Roderich Edelstein entered the kitchen unannounced, letting out a small sigh, and tugging at the cravat on his neck, as if he was stifled; on his appearance, both women immediately stood, curtseying. True to his form, and his stubbornness, Gilbert remained seated.

"My parents have left. Did Natalia do as I asked, ladies?"

"Yes, Sir!" Mei announced softly, hands folded in front of her bosom, "Natalia came into the kitchen and took the money and went out shopping for Mister Gilbert!"

"I see…" Violet eyes turned towards the sitting albino, "And 'Mister Gilbert' wishes to not acknowledge that I have entered the room?"

Gilbert turned, a sardonic gaze on his face, "What, you want me to get on my knees and lick your boot?"

A start of anger went through the aristocrat's body and he closed his eyes, while letting out a breathy sigh, "You are insufferable."

"So's that creepy maid! Dear God, she scared the living daylights out of me!"

It was true—when the platinum blonde lass entered, her demeanor had not been cold—it had been _Antarctic ice_. The Arlovskaya woman cast him only a simple glance, measuring him up with her cerulean eyes, and only muttered in a foreign accent,

"This the boy I am shopping for?"

And the other two females had nodded, and Natalia had stepped out without another word, her navy blue and white maid dress and apron billowing behind her, her Mary Jane shoes clacking on the hard wood floor like the beat of a death-knell, and at the time, Gilbert had shivered extremely.

"That maid, Gilbert, happens to be one of the best servants I ever had. Quiet. Obedient. Everything you are not."

"Yes, because I am neither female, nor Russian."

Roderich rolled his eyes, "Typically uneducated. That accent is not purely Russian. She is from an area belonging to the Russian Empire, but she is not Russian."

"Then what is she?"

"Why do you care?"

"Why can you not just tell me, instead of interrogating me further?"

"Why must be you be an incompetent imbecile, and thus prompting me-"

"B-BELARUS!" Belle shouted; she was a girl that hated conflict, and immediately covered her mouth after her outburst, for the two males had immediately turned to her; meekly, she elaborated, "S-She once told me her people referred to themselves as being from a place named Belarus…"

"…Right. See? My point. She is not Russian."

Gilbert rolled his orbs, "Right, you're right, I'm wrong, Praise Jesus."

"…Someone seems very, very anti-religious." The Edelstein remarked with narrow eyes, and a crossing of his arms.

"And someone else seems very high-and-mighty, _like _the religious."

"…Do you insult everything that you scorn, _Gilbert_?" The shorter male spoke further, stepping closer; once he was close enough, the white-haired male stood, hands flat against the small kitchen table, that was in no comparison to the majestic dining room one in the room to the west.

"I could ask you the same thing, you know,_ Master Edelstein._"

"…" A glare, and then, "You shall not address me with such a tone from now on, understood?"

"Why do you always ask me if I understand what you say?"

"Because half the time I doubt you understand _anything_ that is going on around you, that is why."

Gilbert straightened his back, hands coming to his sides, "And you know that from…what? Being in my presence for fifteen minutes?"

"Of course. It is quite easy to tell what kind of person you are, Gilbert Beilschmidt. Unluckily for me, you are the kind of person I detest the most in this world; someone who lacks morals, taste and eloquence. Luckily, for you, I have to keep you around. Now, if you are done being a nuisance and can hold on giving me a migraine for at least ten minutes, I shall show you your room in the house, and where you shall be doing duties and so on."

Gilbert let out a 'hmph', "Fine, fine. Whatever. Can we just get started? The sooner I start saving up money, the sooner I shall be out of your house and far, far away from your face, and I can start being farther away from you."

"Hmph. Not if I become angered enough and remove you from my service first."

"You would fire me?" A pale eyebrow quirked, "I thought you couldn't get rid of me."

"I cannot—unless I can give a good excuse to my parents as to why I removed you from my presence, such as you being a thief, or an ingrate, or destroying my home."

"And how do you know I won't just quit eventually?"

At this, Roderich let out a spiteful laugh, pushing up his glasses with a finger, "Quit? When? When you get enough money? As if you shall. You are the type that will spend his pennies and pounds on worthless frivolities, such as gin and the women of the streets."

"You really, really like to make assumptions, don't you?"

"Assumptions? Please, these are tried and true observations, from past experience, might I add. Now, hurry. I do not have all day to waste upon you."

"Glad to know my time is so valuable to his Highness."

They said no more to each other, barely able to look the other in the eye; and Gilbert damned his luck! How dare that it turn to this, that he would be employed to…_this_ type of man! A rich, snobbish bastard, the type of man he had just been insulting with Arthur that very morning.

They traversed downstairs, first, Roderich's prim steps leading the way to a rickety stair-case tucked in between the living room and the music room; a small light bulb chain was tugged, and illumination came forth.

The steps were creaky, and Gilbert could not help but think how annoyed he would become after awhile—_squeak squeak squeak_, each time he had to come up and down the bloody stairs, how _wonderful_.

They had arrived at a small basement; it was more like a miniature bedroom than anything, what with there already being two beds in the area; Gilbert was greatly perturbed by the fact that he could take three steps, and cross the entire width; and about eight, and cross the entire length.

"These two beds belong to Natalia and Mona. The other two ladies sleep upstairs in their own quarters, just off the kitchen."

Alright, that explained the two beds down here, and the small little domain Gilbert had eyed from the room he had been in moments before, but…

"So where do I sleep?"

With muteness, Roderich meandered over to a small doorway on the far side of the wall, opening it without changing his serious facial expression. Inside, a cot of meager quality; the room itself was no bigger than a walk in closet, and there was a lack of shelves, a lack of carpeting, a lack of…anything but the bed, which had a mattress, a single blanket, and a pillow of the whitest sheen.

"…You're kidding."

"Well, what do you expect? Firstly, you are a male. I'm not allowing you to sleep with the other women so openly, for I do not trust you. And I feel safe having you down here, for I know neither Mona nor Natalia will put up with your nonsense. And secondly, you were a short notice addition to the household. And because you are new, and because you are a servant, you are certainly not sleeping in a guest room."

"So you are putting me in a closet?"

Roderich shrugged, "Call it what you wish, but you have to stay here. There is no other room-"

"There's no room in _this_ room!"

"…" A dark eyebrow became elevated, "Oh? There is perfectly enough room for your clothing under your bed, that is all you shall need."

"But…But…But…" Ruby eyes were wide like saucers, "All I shall need?'

A nod, "Of course. Your possessions are unneeded here, and from what I have heard, you do not have much, yes?"

"…But still, the principle-"

"_You_? Talking of principles?" A righteous scoff echoed out as Roderich began to make his way back up the basement steps, not even glancing behind him at the other.

"You know, for a 'gentleman', you are not very gentlemanly."

"I have no reason to be gentlemanly to someone so uncouth as you." Roderich called down, as the Beilschmidt was ascending the steps behind him.

"…"

"You do not know the meaning of uncouth, do you?" The bespectacled male bristly probed, barely able to contain the smirk at Gilbert's confused face and uncertainty.

"…Oh, shut your mouth."

"Heh. No surprise. Now, hurry, I wish not to take up too great an amount of time with you when it comes to showing you the house."

And they quickly sped on, indeed; Roderich's footsteps were hasty, hands folded behind his back as he nodded his head at each room their journey led them too; his chores were various—much of the simple work was to be done by the women, and that was cooking, dusting, simpler and easier-on-their-bodies-cleaning. Gilbert was to take over the scrubbing of the floors, since Mei had recently complained of sore knees and back, and, in general, because Roderich would rather see Gilbert on his floor, whipping away grime, than his darling and dutiful Mei, who always strived too hard for her own good. And whatever places the dames had trouble reaching in their work (Shelf too high? Painting too elevated?), Gilbert was to do it for them, being somewhat taller than some of the girls.

Then there was the repair work—the white-locked male was to make sure the house was running in working order on a constant and daily basis; fix the grandfather clocks when needed, check and make sure the newly-installed bathroom was working correctly for Roderich's daily and always-at-four-o'-clock shower. The kitchen was to be stocked full at all times, the groceries for the next day to be spoken of ahead of time, by at least twenty-four hours, and if all four maids were too busy with other errands or chores, Gilbert was to go to the market himself.

He was also, according to Roderich's instructions, to do 'butler' duties as well; bring him tea, when requested. Bring the newspaper, when asked. Cook, when Mona needed an extra set of hands and Belle was too busy in the garden or elsewhere. Whenever Roderich asked him of something, it was to be done without question—whether it was shine his shoes, fix the beds, or even clean and iron his underwear—by hand.

But he was also explained the more complicated and 'no exception' duties—if the house was in need of repair on any grand scale, it was to be his body up upon the roof, fixing a leak or two. It was to be his body digging holes, or hammer or nailing or sawing, whatever was required of his person to finish the job—and to finish it at the minimalist amount of cost.

"Cost? You're worried about _cost_? Are you not…filthy rich?"

"Of course, I am in possession of great wealth—but I also am not going to throw all of that hard-earned money away, especially since most of it my parents have earned. Only within the past two or three years have I begun to establish my own hold upon the Edelstein Company, or Companies, I should say, for we have not merged all the functions of my parents' business yet, into one organization. So you are not to spend more than what is required, and if you are in the belief that a price is too high for a good, you are to look somewhere else, is that clear?"

"How…far do I look somewhere else?"

Roderich looked at the younger lad as if he had said the most foolish and nonsensical joke in the entire universe, "How _far_? Why, as far as you need to go to get the cheapest and most affordable price!"

And yet, he was being paid fifty pounds a week…Interesting…

And who knew what the _other_ servants were being paid…

Then again, those prices might be out of Roderich's hand…Hm…A thought to keep in mind, yes, indeed…

But as a subject matter, it was dropped shortly thereafter, and the men traversed their way across the spacious backyard of the estate; glorious green grass, wherever one was to look! It spread in all three major directions, trees dotting the landscape; to the northeastern corner, Gilbert could spot a small garden, where the first vegetable plants and rainbow-hued flowers were just beginning to bloom; it brought back memories of Adele's mystical gardens in their old home. Her violets, her roses…they were all reproduced, right here and there, in this small little garden outside London…

But the garden was not their destination; instead, Roderich traveled across the grass to a large building at the far end of the estate—a barn. Red, dark-red, verging on the hue of maroon, just like the shutters in front of the home. On its right, a fenced in corral of oval shape, made of sturdy wood.

"…You have a barn?"

"Every gentleman in the nation of England should have a barn, and a least one or two horses in it, would you not agree?"

The Prussian shrugged, "I wouldn't know—I'm not a gentleman." The statement was wry and full of mocking mirth, but Roderich seemed to miss it.

"Of course not. Now, open the door." The brunette stood to the side of the barn, waiting for the other to follow through with the command,

"What? No 'please'?"

"You will learn, Gilbert, that Masters do not have to ask their servants to do things with the word 'please' involved, not unless they want to."

A huff, and then, Gilbert, more out of sheer curiosity than anything, did as he was told, digging his hand into the golden and rusty handle of the barn, tugging it with all his might; thankfully, it opened easily, and instantly, and as the door slid back like butter, he was hit with the waft of fresh air, and the smell of animals.

It was dimly lit, with light shining in from two actual windows, and a hole in the barn's ceiling (The Edelstein male immediately stated that Gilbert was to start repairs on that tomorrow morning); there were ten stalls in all, it was not a large barn by any means, but of good, quality size—big enough to hold the two horses inside.

And what two horses they were! Majestic, one mare, one stallion, the violet-wearing man pointed out, not stepping foot in the barn, while the younger did so, and was allowed to. Chestnut fur donned the female, but it was the stallion who caught Gilbert's eye—Pure snow white, like a good part of his own human hair; dark eyes that seemed piercing, and he could almost remember faces in his mind that had the same look in them before; of power, of human warmth, but also human fear. A mane that was the color of his fur, and long, hanging off majestically, crowned the horse's head.

"The stallion's name is Amadeus; the mare is Sofie."

Gilbert only replied with a genial nod, his eyes still locked on Amadeus; a soft chuckle, of mirth, yet, lacking harshness, came from the older male, who had still yet to set foot inside his own barn.

"You are acting as if you have never seen a horse before, Gilbert."

The paler male whipped around, ready for a retort, but surprised to only see humor on Roderich's face, this time not condemning him for his actions; he was merely asking a question, and letting out a little laugh at Gilbert's actions, but not in a harsh way. So the albino's reply was much more docile, with a,

"Pfft. I've seen horses, it's just…It is just…"

Red eyes turned, gazing back at Amadeus, who had turned his own head and inquisitive gaze upon the servant, letting out a soft neigh, vocally; he had seen fine horses in his younger years, when his father had been in the prime of his business. His mother had shown him, as a small child, photographs of her old mares and ponies, some that she had had to leave behind in fleeing her German home. There had been some in his life that he had touched with his own bare hands, their warm muzzles underneath his bony fingers, nuzzling into him—Gilbert had always loved the animal, but never had he rode upon one. He had never been given the chance, being too young, his mother fretting over his safety.

"Ah…It is just that you have never seen a horse this magnificent, yes? Mm…" The Austrian nodded, finally coming into the barn, to stand near and next to Gilbert, "But Amadeus has become quite a handful over the past few days—very rambunctious and not listening well to the women when they order him to and fro, to clean and feed. Therefore, you are to work with him, and only you."

"Wait, just me?"

"Yes. I shall ask the girls to continue to take care of Sofie, for she is quiet, quite docile and calm. But she is older, too. Five years. Amadeus is only a year old."

"…He…is large for a year-old horse."

Roderich smiled, "My father knows expert breeders of horses. Unfortunately, none of us has been able to ride Amadeus, due to his stubbornness." A soft chuckle, "Perhaps you will, haha."

"Are you mocking me?" Gilbert gave the other a minute leer, unsure of how to take the comment.

"Oh, not mocking, no." Roderich waved a hand, "It is just a simple fact. None of the Edelstein men have been able to ride him for more than a few seconds until being thrown off—OH, wipe that smirk off your face NOW!"

Gilbert's rough hand covered his even rougher lips, "What? I have honestly no idea what you are referring to-"

"You are laughing at me, you…you…" Roderich's face was in an angered, no, raging, frown, cherry red with humiliation. "WELL! I doubt you could ride him at all, he would throw you away before you had both feet around his strong hide."

"Of course. Or maybe he just knows what good and bad taste is, so that's why he kicked you off-"

But the barn door had already slammed with a clang, the Edelstein apparently having hidden strength, strength that could be unleashed when deemed necessary, and Gilbert hiding—really _failing_ to hide—laughter at him for such a statement.

Oh well.

There was some relief at getting the prissy aristocrat hot under the collar, and it was not like he could be fired over chuckling at the guy, right?

"…Some people, eh?" Gilbert turned to the horse, giving him a grin, a grin he was happy to sport, and glad to show off to a creature that had to understand him. After all Amadeus lived under the same roof as Roderich, too; the horse, in lack of human communication, let out a little whinny, and a little bit a louder sound, of the same quality, when the albino placed a hand on his nose.

"See, you're not that bad of a guy! You have good taste, and he does not like that, hehe." A wink, and the horse let out another sound, this one of agreement and pleasure, and Gil could not help but think that the day had taken such a better turn.

"I think we're going to be good friends, pal. Yessire!"

And if Amadeus could have spoken, the chances of him shouting 'yes' were higher than the clouds in the sky…

* * *

Of course, he did face retribution once his muddy and hay-covered feet entered the home once again; Roderich was quite a sight, his foot tapping against the floorboards, violet eyes boring into Gilbert's frame, who just gave a shrug and a, "Yes?"

From there, berating after berating echoed out of the Edelstein's mouth, his hands gesticulating what his words could not convey completely, huffing and puffing, as if he had been rehearsing the entire speech for the five minutes that Gilbert had remained outside in the barn solo.

"AND ANOTHER-"

"Are you done?"

"NO!"

"Well, you should be. So I laughed at you, what is the problem?"

"Servants do _not_ laugh at their Masters! It is common curtsey!"

"But Masters can laugh at their servants?" Gilbert questioned, crossing his own arms, with a miffed look on his face.

"W-Well…Yes. What Master or Mistress does not laugh at her servants? I could not name a single one that has not gossiped or laughed at them, or-"

"Would you not think that _that _is not courteous?"

"…I…" It was apparent that Roderich had never been asked such a question before; his maids had been complacent for so long, forever, and Gilbert was the first to propose another view, "W-Well...I do not do it to the women, that is just improper, bu-but-"

"But if you have any male workers for you, you will laugh at them? Is that what you are saying?"

"…Ah…W-Well…"

"So our feelings do not matter, just because we are lower on the system and in the world?"

"…Well, for the most part, yes." Roderich recovered himself, but realizing too late he had gone the "Blunt and rude" route, according to the albino male in front of him, who let out a hot glare of wrath, his body righting itself.

"…I see. Yet you are very cordial to your maids-"

"That is because all of the girls under my care are very respectable young women who do their work and obey-"

"So when they obey and are from better families than me, that is when they get special treatment? I am just the…the garbage you put out?"

A small shrug, "According to the rules of our society, yes, Gilbert. You are worth less to myself and to others because of your status. That is how things work around here, you know."

"…" Gilbert took in a long breath, letting it out through his nose, and he could only murmur in his haze of fury, "But you do not know everything about me. My past, my feelings—Does no one think that talk like that, that laughing about someone, could hurt their feelings?"

Roderich gave the other a steely look, "People who care about other people's feelings are cared about. Belle, Mei, Natalia and Mona all respect me, and care for my survival in the world. So, I shall always return the feelings. You, on the other hand, feel none of that for me, yet are asking for your feelings to not be harmed when you care not for mine. I see that as unfair, yes?"

"…Since when does someone that is loved so much even need _me_ to care about their feelings?" Gilbert softly replied, letting his arms fall to his side, "You will never understand, _Master_ Roderich. You will never understand that part about…people like me. The poor ones. You yourself know that I have so little, you need to buy clothes for me."

"…Yes, I am aware of that fact." The brunette had already turned away, his back now mostly to Gilbert, head gazing down, "But what you do not understand-"

"Is what? That I am lesser than you? That I am going to get paid to be _degraded_ by you?"

"I do not wish to degrade you, but you degrade me first!" In a fit of irked feelings, Roderich swung around to face the man he was in verbal combat with; his angered became snuffed out, and morphed into the blue flame of shock when all that was on the Beilschmidt's face was a calm sense of disappointment, and disapproval.

"You are really someone, you know that? You think that just because you have already made a judgment on me that it is correct—but you do not ask for the more detailed facts about me. And that makes me wonder how much you know about all of us. The rest of your maids and caretakers and even your fellow gentlemen. Did you know about Belle's bastardly brother? Or Mei's missing one?"

"…" Roderich's multiple blinks was enough of an answer for the Prussian, who just let out a small scoff.

"Do you know _anything_?"

"…I know what I must to lead a proper life."

A shake of his head, "But you're clueless about the rest of us. To you and your parents, I'm just an idiot who does not know how to lead a proper life. What you do not know is that I know more about people than you."

"…How dare you-"

Gilbert put up a hand, "I know. How _dare I_. But how dare _you _laugh at people and then cannot take a joke yourself. Is that not the main point of all of this? You cannot take what we take every day-"

Something boiled over in Roderich—maybe it was because he was afraid to hear the truth, more of the truth, that Gilbert was spouting like the never-ending Fountain of Youth. Or maybe he truly did just want the younger male in front of him to be silent, leave his presence and do something productive until he could start his actual work come morn.

Either way, Gilbert let out a gasp as a hand struck his face, his cheek immediately blossoming into red, eyes of the same hue wide; it was great pain, but not strong enough to bring tears to his eyes, thankfully.

"Get out of my sight. Your duties await you come morning, and your duty _now_ is to be silent for the rest of the day. Do not speak a word to me, and go to your bedroom with your supper in peace, _understood_?" Roderich hissed out, eyes narrowed in a rage that had not persisted in years, "How dare you speak to me of such things, as if you could talk of them. You are nothing but a tiny little ant in the mountain that I have, so your opinions mean nothing to me!"

"…Of course."

"…" When Gilbert said nothing further, merely looking at the ground to his right, an unexpected feeling bubbled up in Roderich's stomach; it was a feeling that induced a wave of nausea, of disgustingness, and he could only back up a few steps, glancing at his shoes, murmuring, "Go. Now."

He expected a response from Gilbert—a retort, a comment, anything…

…But there was nothing.

…And he found himself gazing up, hoping to catch a glimpse of the albino descending the stairs to his bed in the closet, but there was nothing. Gilbert had vanished quickly.

"…Fool." Roderich muttered under his breath, gazing down at the hand he had used to strike the other; it had been his first time he had ever struck a servant for anything, never being a man who was in wont of violence. And yet…

…It made his stomach feel nauseous…

…He could still hear the sound of his gloved hand meeting Gilbert's skin, and…and…and…

…Nevermind…

He let out a shaky sigh, turning towards the kitchen, finding Belle cleaning dishes, and starting to prepare their dinner for the evening.

"Please…Tell Mona to bring up a tray to my room, Belle."

"Ah? Master Roderich, whatever for?"

"…Unfortunately…" Amethyst eyes glanced downward, "I am feeling a tad…under the weather and am in a bit of a mood this evening. I wish to eat supper in peace and in a solitary state."

The lass gave a small bow, "Of course, Sir."

Without another word, Roderich exited the room, and ascended the stairs; he would rest for awhile, have his supper, then he would play something—anything—upon the piano, hoping it would finalize a form of calm nerves for him, before retiring to bed.

For, those were his nightly duties—his nightly rituals. They occurred without fail, like all duties did…

…Duty…

Yes…Duty indeed…

That was what it was all about, yes…?

Duty to his parents, duty to his work, duty to his Elizaveta, duty to honor his family name…

…He had not a duty to care of his servants that much, especially ones that had the gall to talk as if they knew him.

So he would continue to dote on young Mei, be wary and proud of Natalia, honor and chuckle with Belle's silly jokes, and approve of Mona's dedication to her work…

…But Gilbert Beilschmidt? Ha!

Who cared what that male did…?

Certainly not him.

Yes.

Certainly…

* * *

A/N: And here's that one!

Yes, I enjoyed writing Gilbert getting slapped-Sorry, GilGil.

Much more to come! Next time, we formally meet Mona :) Thanks for the support!


	4. Mona

A/N: Alright guys, I have to make this announcement, since I continue to receive Anon-reviews, about the same issue:

I understand some of my writing has been coming off as redundant or awkward to a few readers; to his, I have a few things to say.

I cannot change my overall style, and do not plan to. What may seem awkward to you, is maybe how I normally write, haha! :) Please do not take this wrongly, but it is true. This story has a certain style and writing flow for me, because it is set in a certain time-frame (Victorian Era). It is trying to hint back to the old Victorian novels/writers (Hence the quotes BY them at the beginning of each chapter). Concerning Roderich's speech, it is part of his characterization and it as a whole will not be changed.

What CAN be changed is certain sentences. If you see a sentence that you find to be off, you can send it to me and tell me you think it could be fixed. But PLEASE. PLEASE send an example of what I could fix/replace it with. This seems to be the major issue: people are telling me what they find wrong, yet, no idea on how I can fix it! So, if there's a sentence off, say something like "I think you could replace (this word) with (blank)" when you think something should be fixed, because I cannot go in blindly! And I might look it over and I might agree with you, or I might not :)

So, in short-Overall style and characterization won't be changed, sorry guys. But, sometimes individual sentences may be changed if I agree with your ideas! So keep sending in comments but PLEASE give examples, or I'll never be able to improve any of it!

Now, on with the show!

Song Inspiration:

- "Too Bad", by Nickleback

- "Everything Changes", by Staind"

- "Everybody's Fool", by Evanescence

* * *

4

Mona

* * *

_Always forgive your enemies; nothing annoys them so much._

_- Oscar Wilde_

* * *

Supper had been…well, he had not gone to supper, if honesty was the topic of the evening.

The servants and maids of the household usually ate afterwards, in the kitchen by themselves, so chatter could not be interrupted by their Master. But Gilbert, in a sour mood from the events with Roderich, confined himself to the bed for the night, hoping to avoid further confrontation, or worry—especially since his face was quite red still from the slap to it.

It was only near eight o' clock did anyone come down the steps; at first, the white-haired man froze—what if it was Roderich, again? Coming to fire him and rid of him for his…whatever that i-word was. Impu-something. Roderich had been muttering it under his breath during their encounters.

But no, the steps were softer, and a red skirt unveiled itself to even redder eyes; a girl, quite aged, much older than Mei or Belle, descended, eventually coming to the end of the stairwell and crossing her arms.

"Well well well…So this is where you have been tonight, eh?"

Her accent was heavy, and very much French-esque. Tall, bonny and bony, she fixed her glasses upon the bridge of her nose with a dainty movement, very similar to Roderich's own. Her hair was like Belle's, a bright sunny yellow, but even brighter, and very much longer—a ponytail cascaded over her left shoulder, and long enough to touch her bosom. Eyes that were lighter than Natalia's blue decorated her face as she started at Gilbert, a sardonic grin on her face.

Gilbert could only shrug, "I thought it best to lay low for awhile. He seemed…"

"Angry?" A chuckle, "Well, you're the new guy, just like I had heard. And he was not that angry. More worn out, I do not think you are what he was expecting."

"He wasn't expecting me at all. I was sort of…" A pause, the Beilschmidt trying to find the best word but the lass in front of him did it for him,

"A surprise? A very _lovely _one, apparently. He ate in his room tonight, he did not even eat out in the dining room like he normally does. Quite a change for him, but I suppose he is feeling the strain of an unexpected house-guest—And a house-guest he was violent towards."

Gilbert cringed visibly, the doorway to his bed wide-open, so the other could see his face; she stepped closer, arms still crossed, observing Gilbert with the greatest of skills.

"You see, he has never done that before—whatever you did must have set him off greatly; but he also wished to keep you around."

"…What?"

"Oh, the name is Mona, by the way, in case you did not already know. Gilbert, yes? That is what Belle told me once I was free to come and talk to you." The blonde lass wasted no time, coming into the little hidey-hole that was the other's bedroom, taking a seat next to him while folding up her somewhat tattered red dress and black apron in a petite way so her sitting position was proper.

"What did you mean by…by…?"

"Oh? Oh, well, he is never violent. I shall say that now. He can yell, he can scream, he can even throw a book against the wall, but Roderich Edelstein is not violent towards another man. So most likely he is condemning himself for his actions by not coming out of his room. And because he was violent, he was spontaneous—it was a spontaneous action, most likely due to you angering him in a way he found…most unbearable, but probably because it was true in some way."

"…Oh?"

Mona nodded, "Indeed, you have had quite an effect on him—I believe he was to come down and play on the piano this evening, and that is different for him; usually he plays it immediately after a very emotional experience."

"Play?"

A quirky smile came onto the girl's lips, "Master Roderich loves his piano dearly. It is, to him, the most convenient and easiest way for him to express his emotions. Normally he would play Chopin if angered, Debussy or Mozart or Beethoven whenever else…"

Gilbert gave the girl a nod, to let her know he comprehended the facts; he then silently strained his ears, to catch at least a single note, or two, if he was lucky…

…Yes, there was a dainty sound, far away—it could have been a piano, and it could have been a passionate song, it most likely was…

"…Mm..." Mona nodded, "Yes, he must have been affected; his whole routine is entirely changed, and his face seemed…more serious."

"…What is he like to you, if I can ask?"

"Hm?" A still quirky smile, a dainty finger coming up to fix her glasses once more, "Oh, he treats us well. But what you must remember is this: we are women, Gilbert. All his life, Roderich has been living around more women than men, and-"

"And women…do not start fights, like us?"

A nod, "Precisely. Gilbert, you are most likely going to end up confronting him on other matters that are not pertinent to us. You will fight, bicker, and perhaps you will be struck again. The advice I can give you—the _best _advice—is for you to avoid this at all costs, for it could harm both of you severely. Roderich does not want to fight you, but if it increases and gets worse-"

"He can't fire me for three weeks, at least; they have already paid me that much."

"…" Mona turned her gaze fully onto Gilbert, it fading from shock to laughter, with, "Hahaha! Maria, yes?"

A nod, and the woman let out more derisive laughter, "What a foolish woman. And I can say that in a place where the ears are not around, lucky for me." She stood, going to lean in the doorway, reaching into a small pocket sewed into her apron, and, to Gilbert's surprise, pulled out a cigarette, and a matchbook.

"Do you mind if I…? I can never get a prime opportunity during the day, smoking in front of Roderich would get me fired, or at least heavily reprimanded."

Gilbert, although wide-eyed and shocked beyond belief, gave her the consent with a bow of his head, "Y-Yeah, but you…You smoke?"

The match was struck, the tube lit, and little flares inside could be seen as Mona sucked in a drag, "Mm…" A puff of airy smoke blown out during the pause, "I know, terrible habit for a young lady, but then again, I am not a _proper_ lady."

The Beilschmidt let out a wry laugh, "You must not be, if you are talking horribly about the Master's mother, and are smoking in his house."

A smirk was her immediate response, as she took another drag, "You learn a few things after being a servant for ten years."

"Ten years?"

"Yes, I am twenty-nine. I have been doing this for a decade, and let me tell you this now, Gilbert—it will wear at your soul eventually, and you will wonder how much longer you can take it at some points; you will wonder where the line between honorable duty and enslavement ends and begins. You will see children be born, grown up, and marry; you will see adults age and age until they cannot take it anymore, and die in their sleep."

"…I'm hoping to not be here that long-"

"Oh, you say that now. I remember, six years ago, when I was your age, I still had that mindset somewhat; but by that time," Mona waved her hand, "I had realized that the class lines were drawn—You're lucky, you and Mei will most likely realize it at the same time, perhaps Belle too. Then again, that poor girl, both of those poor girls, will take this over anything."

"…They told me about their pasts-"

"Mm. Did they tell you about Natalia? About me?" Mona turned, quirking a honey-colored eyebrow at the albino, and when he shook his head no, she continued, "Natalia has her own problems, and she will never share them with you, so I might as well warn you. Her relationship with her older brother is quite strained—apparently as a child, she…was quite obsessed with him. She used to rant on and on about marrying him, actually."

"…_Really?_"

"Yes. But once he turned sixteen, he left the home, and moved to Russia. Natalia has not seen him since, and in the process has grown to detest men on many levels. When her brother Ivan scorned her, even though her love was…improper, even for a sister, it put a hole in the girl's heart. She only works for Roderich because he asks no questions of her, and is loyal to her as a Master. Plus, he know she could kill him in his sleep—she is trained with weaponry, you know."

Gilbert's mouth dropped open slightly, "W-Weaponry…?"

A nod, "She is very, very good with knives. In her old country, she practiced throwing knives, before immigrating here at a young age. Maria, like you, picked her up off the street, but at the time, Natalia was needed for the household, and at twenty-five, she is still needed."

"And you?"

Another puff of smoke was blown from the French girl's ruby-red lips, "Not much to say. Was sold into indentured servitude to a wily bastard up in Scotland ten years ago; escaped when the man died of alcohol poisoning after two years, fled here, and found the Edelsteins. I worked for his parents at first, until Roderich came of age and needed women to run his own household. And so, here I am."

"Do you have any family?"

"Do _you_?"

"I asked you first." Gilbert smirked—he had to admit, the witty banter was quite enjoyable with Mona.

"A brother, and I pray to the Lord above our heads that he never shows up this year. He shows up ever year and you can guess what he wants, right?"

"Money?"

"Eh, you're not as stupid as you seem, kiddo." A rough laugh echoed out and the cigarette died out, Mona stomping it and crushing it with the sole of her boot. "Old, idiotic Francis; comes around once a year and is always refused more money, by myself and Master Roderich, thank the Lord. Never inquires about my health, my life, my dreams—he just wants more money, when the sop cannot even hold down a job himself; he just wants to impress the women—and possibly men—of France."

"Heh. My brother does not seem so bad, then. He has never done that to me, at least."

"Most brothers are better than mine."

They spoke nothing more for some moments, Mona folding her arms, resting her head back against the doorway with a quiet thump against the wood; her eyes gazed around the 'room', perhaps thinking of conversation, perhaps thinking of the situation, or maybe an entanglement of both. But at last, she finally spoke up,

"Did Natalia bring back your clothes?"

"Oh?" Gilbert had been lounging on the bed, and came to sit up with her words, "Yeah, I put 'em under the bed."

She nodded, and, taking in or asking no further words, went towards the bed, reaching under it to pull out a pile of work clothes; mostly navy blue and white shirts, of medium quality, enough to work in the house with; there were dark pants, of navy, black and khaki hues, nothing special, nothing out-of-the-ordinary—

…Wait a second.

"Hm?" Sapphire orbs peered at the end of the stack of clothes, and gently pulled out something very different from what she had already seen—a very elegant black coat, a short coat, though; it would not flow past Gilbert's waist, at his height. Add to that a fancier red dress shirt with a high collar and golden buttons, and as the final piece of the ensemble, dark midnight-sky-hued pants of the finest quality.

"Well, well…Fancier than normal. Did she explain these clothes?" Mona proffered the clothes to Gilbert, who had quirked an eyebrow at her 'hm' moments before.

"Just that Roderich said I needed some dressier clothes 'just in case'."

"Hmm…Interesting."

"Don't the maids have fancier dresses? For…I don't know, parties?"

She nodded, "Of course, but he did not buy those for us right away…We usually worked behind the scenes for some time before he brought us to the front lines of the parties and such. Where we mingled and served the guests first-hand. Perhaps he wants to use you right away, but for what reason, I am unsure."

"That unsure?"

"Well, I suppose it could be to improve his image," Mona responded with while she placed the clothes back under Gilbert's bed, "Or perhaps because the garden party and banquet season will be starting soon, and he will need the extra help; or the parties will be grander, and he wishes for you to be a part of them, who knows?"

"…Either way, it means I am working for him."

The Bonnefoy woman let out a small laugh, "Of course. We all are. Is it not _grand_?"

"Your tone states otherwise." A smirk, "You are not one of the maids that is going to tell me how 'marvelous' it is to work for Master Roderich, are you?"

This time Mona let out a full-frontal, in-your-face, derisive laugh, "I will be honest—it is better than being on the streets, but truthfully? We all want our own individual kingdoms in the sky where we have to serve _no one_. It is not that he treats us wrongly, although in your case that _would _be the case, but it is that he treats us at all. We cannot tell sometimes—or I cannot tell sometimes—when he treats us out of genuine compassion, or out of disdainful pity."

"Sounds like the story of my life, Mona."

Another laugh, "We all have dreams of being…not here one day, truly. There is nothing completely wrong with being under the Edelsteins' services, except when it comes to serving Maria, of course." Here she rolled her eyes, but stated more, "But…you do not feel it yet, but you will. Serving another wears at you. Servitude is a unique song or piece of music, in a way. Not everyone can play it or dance to it, and those that usually can are only as good as how much practice they put into it. And when you play it enough, day in and day out, you grow tired of it. You want to throw it away, burn it in the fire like old music, but you cannot, because it would cost you so much. So you are stuck with it until another person comes along and gives you something else—another role—to play."

"…That was…very optimistic to hear." Gilbert frowned, his chin coming to rest on his hand, elbow resting on his knee.

"Well, what do you wish for me to say? That your life will be filled with joy and sunshine for the rest of time? HA!" She shook her head, "Please, if you wish for the reality of the situation, just ask myself. I have been here long enough to tell you all of the facts and state the truth without fear of being reprimanded. They know I am smart, and they know it well. Yet even if Maria was to protest of my continued stay and services, Roderich would not dream of firing me. And yet…" She trailed off, resting her body against the doorway once more, her hands coming out to touch the sides of it.

"And yet…?" Gilbert quipped, red gems shining with curiosity.

"And yet, I do sometimes wish he would fire me. And…And release me, while giving me something in return for my decade of work. For do you know what I dream of, Gilbert?"

"No, what?"

"I dream…" A wistful sigh, and Mona's hands came to clasp themselves to each other, pressing against her chest, "I dream of owning a large house, one day…Having a husband with me, on the porch, as we watch the sunset in the western sky…Perhaps we would return to my homeland, or perhaps we would stay here, but there would be a garden, a marvelous garden that our children could play in to their hearts' content. And it would be a grand house, like this one, and yet I would need no one to serve me. I would do everything on my own, because the house would be my own. I would cherish working to the bone to sustain it, and so would my husband…"

"…Quite a fantasy."

"We all have dreams, you know." She glanced up; while relating her dream, her eyes had been lidded, and glued to the floor, and yet now they came to lock onto Gilbert's, "Mei longs to see her brother alive. Natalia longs to see her brother suffer. Belle wants to have her own happy fairy-tale ending, like any young, naïve girl. I think she sometimes sees herself as Cinderella, and hopes her Prince Charming will just walk through the door one day and save her from this."

"…I guess we do all have-"

"And you? What are your dreams?"

Gilbert did not say anything at first, merely furrowing his brow, "…I am not sure at the moment."

"I am not surprised, actually. Did you have any dreams to begin with?"

A shrug, "I did not exactly have time for them—I was too busy trying to get things I needed for the next day every day."

"So you had no time to dream."

"Will I now?"

A slight smile, "Soon, Gilbert, you will. And because of your situation, you will cling to those dreams as if they are your last life-line. You will never want to let go, because who does? When you work under someone else, and are doing the work for someone else, when it is it _their_ home, _their_ luxury, _their_ future happiness, what else do we do but dream?"

"…I see." He knew she was right; she was so clearly right, and after having done this for so long, what else would she be but right?

"Get some rest. Master Roderich is going to work you hard in the morning for what occurred tonight, I do hope you realize that."

"He can work me as hard as I want, I will not quit." The male smiled devilishly, like Faust's companion himself, "And just let him try to fire me—I doubt he will."

"Mm…He has not hesitated to fire servants before, both his own and those that belonged to his parents. Sometimes he has been quite cordial about it, giving them money and such and even recommending cities they could possibly find work in. Others…well…"

"He has slapped into oblivion?"

Mona let out a cheerful laugh, "You do have quite a sense of humor, how refreshing. But…no, actually. More like obliterated with words into oblivion; yes, that would be the correct way to phrase his behavior." She finished her statement with another chuckle, and then gave a courteous bow of the head, "Get some sleep, Gilbert. Do not worry. I shall look out for you."

At that, the Beilschmidt sat up, "If I can ask, why? Why would you look out for me?"

By this point, Mona had already begun to make her way towards her own bed, "Because, Gilbert, you are one of us, for better or worse, and I can see that you have come to us in 'worse' situations. And at this point, our Master has a negative view of you, which displeases me, and all of us. We wish for harmony in this house, whether we want to be here or not. Which is why you will see Belle quiver at fighting, and Mei become teary-eyed as well. You may also gain an alliance with Natalia as well—she does not truly care for Roderich, but works for him nevertheless. As for me…"

She paused, putting a hand to her heart, a wistful smile on her face, "I shall look out for you, for I have been where you are now. I know the feelings of fear, of uncertainty-"

"I'm NOT afraid!" Gilbert interrupted, but Mona only gave a small smile,

"No, maybe not now. Or maybe you are and are not willing to admit it. But it might come—it most likely will come, for I have felt it in my own veins once. But either way, I shall be an ear you can speak into about it, I promise this."

"…Are you getting anything out of this?" He could not help but ask it; normally those that 'aided' him were merely users of him—they would throw Gilbert away after sucking out the juices from him, like a piece of sugar cane.

But Mona's face grew somber and serious, "Certainly nothing but a friend. And in all honesty, that is what we both need. Now, I bid you good night."

It was genuine, and it was a truthful statement—she had heard of Gilbert's quarreling with her Master, and had become immediately intrigued; here was a man that was not afraid to stand up to Roderich Edelstein and his foolish follies, his disillusioned ideals of the world and how it was run. She could use an ally, a friend, like such—a strong man that could possibly back her up in the future, and whom she would reciprocate the feeling towards.

But there was also a sense of…deeper connection, in Mona's heart, and it resonated more so as she began to pull the covers back from her bed, and heard Gilbert murmuring a quiet 'Good night'. Gilbert brought back childhood memories; of the poor boys in her homeland that had traveled around with her, going to and fro and sometimes stopping to say hello.

Maybe it was foolish to say that he reminded her of a childhood crush that had existed when she was six, to a boy who was ten, a boy who supposedly knew the entire world; but now, in this year, and with this man, she was expecting no romantic feelings. She was too old for such foolishness.

But it still drove an arrow in her heart when Gilbert would give her that cocky grin, as he had done in their conversation this night; her little boy from before had done the same…before a fire had burned their home to the ground, and she had seen it, and, and-

"…" She let out a shaky sigh, her hands covering her face; she could still see his plump cheeks, his perfectly brown eyes…he had been the only child or male she had ever felt affection for.

Until now…

But it was different now…

Gilbert was young and in a strange world, just like that boy had been many times, while searching for a way out of the Hell that was their decrepit neighborhoods; she had gone from decently-middle-class to poverty, to indentured servitude, to…

Whatever this was.

But either way, she felt a longing to protect the child in the closet; indeed, the white-haired male came off as a child, pure and simple. Argumentative, cocky, bastardly, not afraid to get his hands (or mouth) dirty. She could not help but wonder what his childhood had been like…perhaps one day he would tell her.

She would admit, there was a selfish part of her actions—she loved the game that was developing; it was obviously a game between Master and New Servant. Who would crack first? Who would give in first? Who would relent on their ambitions to drive the other one wild? And what was with Roderich's odd behavior? Confining himself to his room? Almost as if he regretted…

Hmm…Yes, a game.

It could certainly be described as that, and it would hopefully be entertaining…

It had been quite, quite dull at the estate for some time…

"…A game…How lovely." She murmured to herself just as she pulled the covers over her head, and Natalia began to descend the stairs and shut off the singe light in the basement-bedroom mixture.

A game…

She liked games…

She hoped it ended dramatically, and changed over a period of time…

She was definitely enjoying the beginning of it, that was for certain…

Now…To dream of how the ending would play out upon this night in bed…

* * *

A/N: Short chapter, but I'll be uploading the fifth one soon! : D Thanks so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed Mona's formal introduction. See you all soon!


	5. Helios' Chariot

A/N: Here we are again! A bit of a longer chapter this time, with some interesting...thoughts by a few of our characters :) Enjoy! And thanks for all the reviews so far, I'll try to respond to big ones and most of them over the holiday break.

Note: Helios is the Greek personification of the sun!

Song Inspiration:

- O.A.R.: "Love and Memories" and "Shattered"

- OneRepublic: "Secrets"

- Vanessa Carlton: "Heroes and Thieves"

- Fall Out Boy: "I Don't Care"

* * *

5

Helios' Chariot

* * *

_I am now quite cured of seeking pleasure in society, be it country or town. A sensible man ought to find sufficient company in himself._

_- Emily Bronte_

* * *

Dawn had come sooner than Gilbert would have appreciated; an old clock in the basement told him it was seven in the morning after he heard hustling and bustling in the room behind his bedroom door. Upon opening it, Natalia and Mona were moving about, straightening up the basement; he could hear Belle stirring and moving about in the kitchen, calling to Mei while pots and pans banged about.

"…We...have to start working now?" Was all he could mutter simply, and when Mona just nodded and hurried up the stairs, he let out a dramatic groan, flopping against the thin pillow.

The bed had been…decent enough to sleep on. He had slept better many times, but also worse many times; the albino supposed it was a feeling he would have to get accustomed to.

The smells of eggs and fresh meat and toast hit his senses as he ascended the stairs to the main floor, fixing and slipping on the last of his work clothes for the first day, the blonde Belle giving him a cheerful "Good morning!" while Natalia, who followed him up, just stated coldly, "Begin working immediately."

Breakfast for the servants was not served until ten o' clock—after Roderich had gone to work and eaten the meal he wished for at eight; until then, his grumbling stomach would have to suffer, a statement pointedly made by the cook herself.

"I'm sorry, Gilbert, it's the rule!"

He only grunted as he shook his head; stupid rules. Stupid Roderich for making stupid rules.

Speaking of the Edelstein, there was no love lost as he descended the stairs, in fanciful and pristine attire, and came into eye contact with Gilbert—one could have touched the lightning that sprouted between their beings and eyes.

"Gilbert."

"…Master."

The brunette gave an acknowledging nod at the title, "Good. Now, start immediately on the barn's ceiling. I want it repaired before the day is out, please."

"Alright, fine, but why so soon, if I can ask?"

"I want it looking well for when Elizaveta Héderváry arrives tomorrow afternoon for a meal celebration."

"Eh?" An eyebrow shot to the sky, "You want me to fix an old barn for some _girl_?"

The Austrian frowned, "That 'girl' is a highly respectable woman and is very close to me. Do not speak of her in such a…an atrocious manner." What Roderich failed to include was an important piece of information:

Elizaveta was his _fiancée_…

Not of his free will, surprisingly, and Roderich would rather hang than admit that aloud—they had known each other for years and years, ever since they were little children, and this was part of their families' ideas. Their many, many eccentric and possibly ludicrous ideas.

Elizaveta and her parents were of Hungarian dynasty; immigrated here about the same time Roderich's own mother and father had, in the businesses of flowers, catering, parties, and, more recently, textiles. A combining of the two businesses after the parents' friendships with one another soared through the roof was inevitable—an arranged marriage between their offspring another inevitable idea. For why should they not one day combine their interests and keep the businesses thriving longer and longer, together, after they were gone?

But…there was a problem in Roderich's heart that he hated to admit; he loved, Elizaveta, truly. He had known her for so long, too long, that it would be criminal to not have any source of love directed towards her.

But that was it—it was love, but…

…She was a best friend. A _confidante_. A _sister_…

But there was a hole in his heart where romantic notions for his dear girl and sister and friend should be…They had never expressed feelings of romance for one another, not in all of the years they had known one another. They had met at ages three and five, Roderich being the elder, and since then, they had been close, but…

But at sixteen, when he was told he was to marry Elizaveta by his twenty-eight birthday, her twenty-sixth, things had changed…

He had tried to feel romantic feelings, he had…She was a beautiful woman, no doubt about that, but…

…He could not place it, but there was just…something not there…

Elizaveta, fortunately and surprisingly, had felt the same—they had spoken in confidence one evening, recently, and she had quietly murmured, tears in her eyes,

"R-Roderich…I…I do not love you…"

She had expected him to be heartbroken; for years, he had kept up the façade of passionate love, kissing her cheeks, her lips, in the presence of others when she was around, and yet, when he was given this confession, he could only admit his, too.

But they could not do a thing…Society, and their parents, demanded the marriage be held up—no one else was told of the situation, and they, each of the engaged persons, could only hope that love would bloom between them eventually…that it would at least lead to children, to some form of a happy ending…

…But he knew it would not come. How could it?

They did not love each other like they were _supposed_ to…He did not get into a tizzy and wanted to take her into his arms, and make love to her for the rest of his life. He did not want to kiss her in secret, place a flower upon her brow, and kiss her fingers like a gentleman.

…Was there something wrong with him? Was he supposed to…to…

It did not matter; but what did matter is that there was a feeling in his stomach that told him to not tell Gilbert that piece of information—not yet, anyway. He was not sure why, but there was something in his soul that commanded him not to tell the new male of the house about his entire life.

Was it a personal reason? Would Gilbert scoff at him for being an engaged male? And why should this affect him?

And it was not as if no one knew of Elizaveta—the maids knew of their engagement (Even if they did not know of the hesitation surrounding it; that was a personal secret that Roderich would take with him to his personal Doom).

So Why…?

He could not answer it; he could only silently gaze at the albino for a moment, mulling over the entire situation in his brain, until Gilbert spoke up with,

"What? What is it?"

"…Nothing. Just go out to the barn now, yes? Either Belle or myself, depending on what work I must do, shall come and retrieve you today to alert you of your first meal being ready."

With that, he brusquely left the room, hands folded behind his back; he could smell the meal awaiting him; he could picture the work smirking in his office, grinning at the fact he would have to busy himself with tax forms, balancing worker wages for the next month, looking over new toy designs for his father's company—his future inheritance—and dozens of other tasks that he could barely name at the time.

And he could sense the other male's—the only other male in the home—eyes upon him.

He thought it was so easy, did he not…?

That Roderich had it so easy…

That things were just _divine_…

That he was oh, so _happy_…

That he wanted this _business_…

That he wanted this _marriage_…

That he wanted these bloody halls, that he wanted the land of England…

…Fools.

What did they think he was, a joyous Olympian riding in a chariot?

…

"…Belle, please make me a cup of tea. And make it strong."

Who knew being what _they_ wanted would be so, _so_ tough…

* * *

Orders were meant to be broken; Gilbert Beilschmidt believed this whole-heartedly.

So, even though he had gone out right away to the barn, he had not…well…

He had not started working…

Mainly because he found solace in this dingy old barn; it might have smelled like a horse's bum at many corners of it (Sad, for there were only four corners in the barn, and the odor prevailed in at least three of them), but it was…quiet. There were few noises out here; or, what he should say: there were few destructive noises out here.

Birds chirping, a few insects buzzing in and out, the hay crunching against his old boots (How ironic—no new boots!); the mare Sofie had given him a lazy gaze, and it seemed that there was a quirk of a smile on her long face; it was Amadeus who noticed his arrival more vocally, neighing with bluntness that only a powerful animal who had few cares could express.

"Easy, old man, easy." The twenty-three year old chortled with a laugh, putting out his hand to the horse; there was something…actually quite calming while being in the presence of the horse. They had a relation, or a bond, yet Gilbert could not place what it was…

…With any luck, it was their mutual dislike of Roderich.

A friendly nip to his palm, and the white stallion calmed his body, letting the human stroke his muzzle for some moments; it was nice to just enjoy the peace here…While those silly maids fluttered about attending Roderich's whims, he could at least be out of the picture somewhat—in a place where there was not a human, just him, animals, nature…and work. But work without the others being around. He could relax somewhat, not caring about how he looked. God knows that he would have to look good while serving the priss inside, while "serving him tea" and "bringing him pieces of sweets and cakes".

But here, out here, he could be sweaty, he could be dirty, he could actually do work that was not going to be such a bore…

…Of course, Gilbert would have rather just napped in the hay piles that were the cleanest of the bunch, but he knew Roderich would have a fit if he slept on the job—on the first day no less.

So with a resigned sigh, he gazed upwards; the hole was large, he could far from lie about that part of the situation. It was large enough to let a shaft of light gleam down upon him, the day clear, bright, surprising for an English March morn. But there was a warmth in that sunlight, and it caused his skin to shiver, as if it had just been blessed by something Ethereal that he could hardly Comprehend.

But of course, too much light in a barn was bad. The hole had to go.

"Damn ceiling's too high though…" The silver-haired male muttered to himself, and he could have sworn Amadeus snorted with delightful mirth at his predicament, "Oh yeah, _you _think it is quite funny."

The Prussian rolled his eyes as the horse whinnied in reply; was this animal smarter than he had originally predicted? And he had thought of Amadeus as extremely smart to begin with, so…so…

"Ah, whatever. I'll get up there and fix the damn hole like he wants. Sooner the better…"

But how? And with what? That idiotic Austrian had not told him where the wood was…

Gilbert poked his head out of the barn; there must be a shed, yes? A shed where wood was to be kept? Did not all those fancy rich snobs in York and other places have wood-sheds?

But as far as he could tell, there was not a shed in the back garden and yard; it was only after circling around the barn twice did he spot a pile of old wood leaning against the far, southwestern corner of the barn; oh, _that _was convenient…

The planks were brought inside, thrown to the ground with little care; alright, that was taken care of. Now, tools?

Oh, those were easier to find. Someone had had brains in their head at that moment, for a hammer hung near the door upon a nail, and was easily grabbed; rusty but still usable nails were in a little metal tin underneath, and were also taken by hurrying pale hands, and placed next to the wood and hammer.

Alright, he was getting places, this was looking up…

Up…Hah, if the bloody hole had not been too high up, he would have found that statement funny…

"..._Scheiße_." His native tongue was coming out, so it surely meant he was frustrated; Gilbert spent another ten minutes perusing the entire area of the inner barn, and even more minutes outside, looking for a step ladder; it could be rickety, it could be old, it could cut him and give him diseases, at this point he did not care! But there was none!

How could one have a home this big and _not _have a ladder?

How did they even build the damn thing without a ladder!

A groan; frustration was an ugly emotion on Gilbert—it made his eyes seem demonic, his smile faded into oblivion, and he was known to growl because of it.

Alright, he would have to improvise, but how…

…There were the stalls…

There were…beams in the barn, some rafters…

…

A evil smirk came onto his face—he had an idea.

It involved putting a few boards into one hand along with the hammer, some nails between his teeth, and hopping onto a stall in the barn, but it worked there, at that first step. He wobbled, and let out a muffled 'Woah!', but managed to sustain grace long enough so he would not be humiliated in front of Amadeus, who watched his actions while barely containing his boredom, wondering what planet he had been born on, the silly human!

From there, a jump, a hand wrapping around a beam in the ceiling, and with a strained heave, Gilbert managed to lift himself up in an ungainly, but effective fashion.

Gilbert had been called stupid before—hah to those idiots! He was not stupid enough to walk across the beam, even if it was thick enough to possibly do it. Instead. He shimmied across it, somewhat flat on his belly, until he was close enough to the hole; happily, he was able to get close enough to where he was actually right underneath the hole, the large mass of Emptiness framing his face; the sun was brighter and bolder up here, but Gilbert made himself manage—squinting was an assistant as he slowly stood, gripping a board with one hand, the other the hammer and a single nail; he would have to balance himself with his own internal fulcrum—his arms being straight, along with his back, breath even and slow, not fearing of a fall.

Slowly, the nails did their job, being banged into the wood with speed, that was dexterous and quick, but also tame; Gilbert knew the risks if he messed up first job—he would most likely be out on his ass back in the London streets, and he could just _bet_ that his house had been sold by Maria. That had been a haunting dream last night, and he could just _sense_ that it had happened…

He could almost see symbolism in this first task—if Gilbert Beilschmidt actually cared about that sort of thing. The whole idea of stopping light from getting into the barn…bah, who was he kidding; Roderich had not wanted that as a goal for this. This was to protect his goods from the weather, such as the dark and dank English rain and its pure snow.

…But his light was fading, was it not…?

…Or was it…?

A snort, a shake of the head; he could not think like some sissy—that was the Edelstein's position, and this direct attack of the other's character brought a smile of hatred to the Prussian's face, as the final board in his hand was put into the roof.

And so a ritual began, that afternoon, for just that afternoon; climbing down, grabbing more boards and nails, climbing back up (He fell only once—thank God no one else saw that hideous stumble!), fixing the hole, and so on and so forth.

It was actually…somewhat relaxing to have a ritual, after days of not having them. There was something calm about knowing what was coming next, not having to worry if he was going to get mugged again, or meet an old debtor who was still angry about not having received his whole pay from Frederich's demise. He would not have to worry about getting food, that was coming (It better, or he would find someone to report abuse to!). His clothes would not be stripped from him in a ill-fated attempt to get away from a brawl; nor would they stripped by a male harlot in the seedy underbelly of the city…

…Arms and fingers slowed as he thought of his last rendezvous with such a man. He had been tall, but submissive; entirely letting Gilbert take control of the situation. A novice, that had been obvious from the gleam in his shimmering blue eyes, and his blonde hair, curling atop his head; he was English, a boy, probably much younger than the albino, but said albino had never gotten to ask the boy his age. Nineteen? Twenty?

It had been after the sex that things got…different for Gilbert. They laid there, not speaking, the boy already being paid his few pounds and coins; when, to the Prussian's surprise, the boy stood with a hurry, dressing on the spot the moment his feet had touched the creaky floor of the shack he used as a brothel for him and his fellow males of that profession.

"Where ya going?"

"Home. My wife and daughter are waiting for me."

It had been a curt response, and the other had not gazed at the albino in the bed, not even as the door had been slammed.

Back then, an overwhelming sense of loneliness had flooded Gilbert; here he was, single, alone, poor, being taken in by whores from off the streets, and they…they were not like him. They had families. This was a secret life; it probably paid for them a tax or two, a bill or two that the government charged unto their household, and the family need not know a single thing about it.

Him? Nothing.

Empty sex. That was what he received.

Maybe that was what caused him to give up on love; even as he saw his brother falling in love with a male that was an imbecile, but had a good heart. He could live with sex—that was…something. It was a connection, but now, thinking back on the times he had had sex, what connection was there?

…_There was none…_

That one boy had obviously wanted his connection with his wife and child more than any sort of connection with Gilbert…

The others had given him a chaste kiss or two goodbye, a "hopefully one day we shall see each other", but what did that mean? Half the time the red-eyed male caught them having 'business' with another male, or a female, or whoever…

…It made his knees weak, and Gilbert found himself sitting down on the beam, the roof about three-fourths of the way repaired, at least for now. Who knew how long these boards would hold up, for they were not the best quality…

…Had it all just…been nights of loneliness?

Wasting away the precious money he had, just so he could fill his body with another's essence, an another who far from truly cared, and who could barely remember his name?

"…Ah…" He shivered, hands dropping the board lightly to the side, the nails following it.

He loved himself—he was awesome, he was Perfection, it was what he told himself every night before he fell asleep; it made his little, dark world look a tiny bit better and brighter…

But he was Alone…

Alone, not just 'alone'…He was _Alone_…

God, he had never cared…

Had the sex even been that good…? He could not remember now…Knowing his luck, it was probably not, and he had just warped his memories into thinking he had had an orgasm of Heavenly Bliss…

He could only sit there, and hang his head—it had never bothered him before, this sense of isolation; but seeing that they all, all of those people in that house back there, had something or someone…

They had never had to go into his depths to achieve human connection…They never degraded themselves into animals…

He would cry—but he was too much of a manly Prussian bastard for that…

…He could let his heart silently ache, though; he did not enjoy it, though, surprisingly—he was a very, very obvious masochist at many points in his life and daily life.

…But his senses died down, just for a few moments of peaceful reflection, of…well, peaceful was a bad descriptive adjective here, was it not…?

But he could just sit there…Just for a few minutes, no one would care…

No one was around…

Like usual…

But in all actuality, he was wrong…

There was someone…

And he was watching from the doorway of the barn…

* * *

He felt like one of those voyeurs in dirty stories that London was posting in its grungy newspapers; one of those less-than-gentlemanly characters that inhabited Austen, Bronte, Tennyson…

But the Austrian stood there, gripping the doorway of the barn, keeping an eye on his new charge; at first he had said he was watching without making his presence known because it was for the best, because he wanted to see how this man worked without someone watching him intently.

But now…He was being an admirer, and Roderich Edelstein could have kicked himself for it!

It was just…he did not do this sort of thing; just watch people. He had no reason to, all people were the same, at least when it came to their interactions with the Austrian.

But here was Gilbert, brandishing boards and tools, nimbly hoping from stall, to beam, back to stall, back to beam, with quick-footed fashion; of course, the idiot did not even ask if they had a ladder—which, Roderich did. In the basement, tucked away in a corner-

…Alright, so he could have gotten it out for the younger male, but really, Gilbert _could have asked _instead of making himself go through all of the physical labor he was doing now.

Imbecile.

A very fit imbecile-…

…He would ignore that little tiny thought.

Although, Roderich knew he was right; the white-haired male with the odd-colored eyes was acting as if he was very fit and trim; he was not having laborious breathing, even though his pallid brow was lined with sweat, face a bit tinted the color of warm fire due to the sunlight shining upon him.

…See? Was he not being an _admirer_? And to this man? What could that say about him? AH!

Well…Admirer was a better word that stalker, now was it not?

Roderich sighed; no, his mind stated firmly—you are watching to observe his work patterns. How high his determination in getting a job done is. You are not…observing how his body moves or anything of the like. Or, if you are, you are observing it in the way an employer does to an employee—you make sure he does not do anything stupid to throw out his back, or fall, or-

…Gilbert had stopped his movements.

Violet eyes blinked in perplexity as the lanky arms belonging to the other ceased to move, merely coming to rest at his sides for some moments, the man standing stock-still, having his head hanging.

What was this? Why had he just stopped?

Unconsciously, Roderich's feet led him into the barn, but he dared not speak; hands, shaking, to his surprise, gripped each other's elbows, arms coming to fold across his chest; Gilbert slowly placed the nails and boards that were in his hands aside, throwing them onto the beam. His body followed shortly afterwards, sinking slowly, until he was in a sitting position, legs dangling off the supporting piece of wood for the barn.

Well, this was an unusual change—Roderich's first instincts were to scoffs and shout 'lazy idiot!'. Why else would he just sit down in the middle of a job? Had the albino given up? Was he quitting now, just when the work had begun, and had not even begun at a hard state?

…But that slice of Roderich's mind shunned and shut itself down as he stepped closer to the other male, curiously gazing upwards, trying to read his face. Yes, that was a frown that he could spot. Yes, that was a serious, somber gaze…

…_What is Gilbert thinking…?_

The man had to be thinking—and that made the virtuoso wonder if the world was ending; his impression of Gilbert had been that he failed to think. That yes, there was a brain in there, and that, yes, it might have some intelligence (if Gilbert was lucky), but he never thought things through.

But…Here…

Here he was, musing over…something…

He could have been the next Thinker for all Roderich knew, the way his body failed to move, the way his gaze was perfectly still, only a single blink coming forth every so often. It was as if the man before him had turned to stone. Pure stone, the hardest diamond, the strongest jade and obsidian…

It was such a peculiar sight; never in his wildest imagination, not even if he had been on the strongest hallucinogens would Roderich have pictured this.

_What are you thinking…? Are you recalling what I did to you yesterday afternoon? Are you carving up more hatred for me? _

The brunette could not help but grimace at his own shame—shame for losing control of a situation, on _the first day_…

Yes, he did believe it had been called for, at the time; but now looking back on it, Roderich wondered if he could have handled the whole 'I-slap-you-for-your-disobedience-you-ignorant-twat' situation better…Truly, look at the ramifications! Here he was pondering if the new servant was digesting more hatred for him; and here, he himself, was wondering if he should be ashamed and apologize…

Apologize? HE? APOLOGIZE? TO _HIM_?

_The seasonal weather is warping your mind, Roderich…_

He shook his head—why ask questions, why care? What was the point? This was a servant. Not a regular man. If this had been a fellow businessman, Roderich would have already asked him what was troubling him—and he would not have been…observing him in secret. If it had been a gentlewoman, he would have taken her hand, given her a handkerchief to dry her eyes upon, and spoken with her rationally. Even if it had been a maid of his, he would have calmly asked her to state her grievances.

But this was different—this was Gilbert Beilschmidt, a…a…

…A something. Yes, a something.

An ignorant Something…

A…Something. Yes. Yes, that was the only label Gilbert needed; he was low on the pecking order, lower than that nameless gardener whose name was…Rati? Ravi? Something. He was young and shivered whenever Roderich even gazed at him, so who knew what _his _mental issues were.

The Edelstein finally grew tired of this; tired of admiring—_gazing_—at this foolish male who was probably so full of negative emotions, he could hardly breathe. And sure, perhaps he was…actively-fit for harsher tasks that required manual labor, that did not change a thing, though! Not a thing, not a thing!

"Oh, so you are taking a break, are you? So soon?" The words dripped from his tongue before he could stop them—not that he wanted to, he wanted to assert himself once more. _Thinking_ about Gilbert showed _weakness_ towards the other—and as if that was needed.

The white-locked male's ears pricked up, his head following suit, and he turned to gaze downward, a wry smile on his face,

"What? I cannot take a break after getting my job almost done?"

"One should not waste time like that, you know." Roderich returned the facial gesture with one of his own, "I said complete the job as soon as possible. You sitting around like a lump hinders that order, yes?"

"You being around me hinders the work order." Gilbert rolled his eyes, slowly coming to stand upon the beam, once again picking up the tools and nails he needed.

"I, last time I checked, must be around to make sure the work order goes through correctly—how do I hinder such a thing, Gilbert Beilschmidt? Hmm?"

The albino did not even turn, keeping his back towards Roderich, "You are a distraction. You're just standing there, glaring at me, and arguing with me while I'm doing this for you, and am working for you. And hey, I want this done too, so can ya just be quiet while I work?"

"You? Asking _me _to be quiet? There is a change!" The Edelstein barked back at Gilbert, a smirk on his face as he stepped closer to the elevated Beilschmidt, "Normally Masters are not given such a statement, Beilschmidt. And you? Ha, if your voice vanished away, I would wonder if the Four Horsemen were near."

"Are you saying that I am never quiet, or something?" Gilbert scoffed as he began to hammer a board in with a steady 'bang-bang' rhythm, "Trust me, I can be silent if I want to be. Maybe I just don't wanna be right now, did you ever think of that?"

"And did you ever think of the idea that perhaps you should be quiet more often, and not just went you want to be? There are moral rules to society that state when a man should not-"

"Blah blah blah blah! What is with you and rules, anyway?" Gilbert spat, finishing with one board, and bending down to pick up another.

"And what is with you and being rude?" Roderich countered, his face losing its teasing banter and becoming more serious and demanding, "Were you even born with manners?"

"Were you even born with your own mind?" Gilbert's voice rose, full of contempt, "Honestly, you keep speaking of 'society' and what a Master and Servant should do—what about what you want to do? Or me? What about me?"

"Oh, and I bet that is a question you ask frequently!" The brunette commented snidely, with a small huff of air, "Honestly, I am highly tempted to just ask you to leave once these next three weeks are through, and I will never have to delve into the realm of seeing your mug ever again!" He was gesticulating highly, wagging a finger around, body and back moving upward with exclamations, acting as if they were proclamations from on high, "And another thing-"

Roderich whipped around at that statement, just in time to see Gilbert turn as well; but it was at that moment, that something quite peculiar occurred. So peculiar, so unusual, that it caused the blood in the Austrian's body to freeze, and a foot to take a step back.

"Oi, shut up, Priss, seriously."

"…" But Roderich did not hear him; he was too focused on…how Gilbert _looked_ to hear his speech…

The angle of the light that shined through the hole in the ceiling was smaller than it had been in the beginning of the day, but it was perfect…It hit the Prussian at such an angle that…

It made his entire face glow, his upper body glow, with an unusual aura, and Roderich found himself unable to look away. White hair glimmered as if it had gold sparkles and shimmers were sprinkled into it, and Roderich found his hands subconsciously falling to his side…first the left, then the right. The albino's eyes were accentuated more by the light, and for a moment, the brunette's lips parted in surprise at the change in Gilbert's appearance.

Or had he just not…noticed it before?

"What?"

Gilbert had said it, but, of course, he failed to hear it; violet eyes blinked, unable to look away from the sight before them. It was just so…

…_He looks beautiful…_

Roderich let out a little gasp at the thought; he was disgusted that his mind could turn down such a dark and un-holy corner, but…

_Dear God, it is true…It is whole heartedly true…_

Those red eyes were not of a mutant, but a man; they were human, and yet…fiery. Ethereal. He was drawn in, drowning in a sea of blood, of pleasurable blood that sucked him in and he longed for it not to spit him out. Now that he thought about it, and it was as if he now thought with a clear head, by the by, he could not recall ever setting his eyes upon a set of orbs like Gilbert's. Blue and green and brown and black, but never this shade of red…

His skin gleamed; where he thought it had been sickly and pale and unnatural, there was actually something natural about it, now; it was like the finest porcelain from the East Asian lands, and the darker parts of Roderich's mind wondered if it was soft…

_How…Why…Why am I thinking this…? Because it is true?_

…_Yes, but…Yes, it is, but…_

_Why…Why now? I thought-_

_I thought wrong…_

Gilbert was beautiful—he could not take that thought back, even though he was already beginning to silently deny that it had ever come forth. There was just…There had been something different about this man, ever since he had laid eyes on him. Had that been the reason of his immediate disdain? Did the albino's differences scare him so much that he had to shun him with insults?

_What kind of man does that make me…?_

He could not look away—this was Truth, and it was in Human Form. It was staring Roderich down with confusion and bits and pieces of contempt in that gaze, and he could only take it in and suck it into his soul and begin to see things different. This man was human, not a freak, and he…was…

"What? What are you staring at?"

That snap had been louder, and Roderich's holy fantasy was shattered; the light was still there, Gilbert was still there, and he still looked like a Heavenly creature that had wormed its way into Roderich's heart, but the feelings of enchantment were nothing more than shattered invisible fragments scattered around the barn floor. Helios' chariot, the source of the revelation, had come and gone, and though it was still "there", it was no longer "here"—in Roderich's consciousness.

He felt himself blush immensely; heat swallowing up his face, for now he had been a real admirer, staring at the other male's—_MALE!_—face and skin, how his posture had been upright; he had pictured those neck muscles, those arms, those…those…

"…G-Get back to work!" Roderich shouted with a huff, turning around immediately, stalking out of the barn with such a high speed, he would have put his own mare and stallion to shame.

Once he was far enough from the barn, Roderich froze on the spot; no, this was not good, he could be seen here—quick steps once more, and he was eventually leaning against the far side of the barn.

Why?

What? What had been that?

He was so unsure, so doubtful…

There was nothing wrong with admiring another man's looks; his fellow businessmen constantly complimented on his sense of fashion, his fit and healthy skin, and so on.

But that…That had been…Those had been...Homosexual thoughts-...!

No. No. He was not a homosexual…

Right…?

…_NEIN! NEIN! I am not, how could I even…NO!_

No, those thoughts were not of a homosexual—he was just…

He had been having doubts about loving women, due to his non-attraction to Elizaveta. Yes, that was it. Perfect, yes, yes that was it. The perfect reason.

He liked women.

He wanted women.

He…admired Gilbert's physical features.

He…admired women's physical features, TOO, so this was just-

"AH!" Confusion, confusion, confusion! Dainty hands covered a thin face, and Roderich let out a shaky sigh.

No matter how hard he tried, the words would just not work out right!

Homosexual? He was not a homosexual.

He just had…good taste in the physical features of others-…Wait.

That meant…

He thought Gilbert was good taste? NO! That was wrong too!

It was all wrong! Wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, WRONG!

But…It had felt nice.

To think like that…To think another ma—person was…actually beautiful.

Roderich could not honestly recall when he had thought that, and had later been embarrassed about it; yes, all gentlemen thought proper ladies were "beautiful", but that did not mean they wanted to wed and bed them…

….Oh dear Lord, did that mean he wanted…

…With Gilbert…?

…

"Hnn!" A noise of disapproval escaped Roderich's throat, and more shame colored his face; no! How? Why? What?

…And then, a shaky sigh.

What was he to do? Truly?

He had thought…_that_, and it had been there, but now…

Now, he had to forget such a thing.

It was wrong.

It was improper.

_He looked so dashing…_

It was disgusting.

It was an ugly mark upon society if he thought more.

_Has anyone ever told him such a compliment? In any form…?_

Another frustrated shout—WHY did he even CARE?

That was it—he was going to nip this in the bud, here and now.

With a heavy sigh, he silently proclaimed all such thoughts were gone and dead; dead, like the old traditions of fools whose ideas had cost them their lives.

And as Roderich marched back into the house, he repeatedly told himself it had just been a mistake. That he was overworked, tired (Not much sleep last night, after all…), in need of some…relaxation, and Gilbert had trigged…_things_ because he was just an annoying and damned bastard. And his incapability to have romantic love for Elizaveta, that topic haunting his mind earlier, had caused him to…feel things that were nonexistent.

And even if he was of that…nature, GILBERT? TRULY? HA!

That was a laugh, a righteous laugh!

…But as he stalked back into his estate, Roderich knew there was a shadow there. A shadow looming over him, pointing, stalking, laughing with glee at his little blunder…

…Had it been a blunder? Had it all just been…a trick of his mind?

…Why, he surely hoped so…

* * *

A/N: And there is chapter 5! As you can see, we're moving along at a nice pace, but thoughts are beginning to haunt poor little Roderich, ohohoho~

Translation: _Scheiße _is German for_ "Shit"._

Chapter six is coming up soon! ^ ^ I'll most likely be updating my other story before then, or maybe not. We shall see! I have many weeks left on my holiday break and they are to be productive. Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to you all as well! See you next time!


	6. Questioning

A/N: And we're back! And I have responses to the Anon reviewers, again (Really guys! XD I wish you had accounts!):

- I do appreciate constructive criticism. I never said otherwise.

- I appreciate your most recent criticism, but please: put breaks between your paragraphs or something XD Or send it in a private message. One Anon's review is nearly impossible to read because it is all bunched up.

- I do not feel that any of you are nit-picking. But spelling mistakes will occur; I miss them sometimes, and I do not have a BETA.

MOVING ON, to happier things, here's the next chapter :3 Enjoy!

Song Inspiration:

- Where is the Edge, by Within Temptation

- All the Things She Said, by t.A.T.u

- Unwell, by Matchbox Twenty

* * *

6

Questioning

_I desire no future that will break the ties with the past._

_- George Elliot_

* * *

Sweat was something Gilbert did not enjoy and when the task—his first task—was finished, he was fully uncomfortable, and could feel the perspiration dripping down his neck, and nestling in his hair.

It was a cool, spring day—no one but hard-working men would have sweated or felt heat in their bones on this day, and Gilbert could truthfully join that category. Thankfully, the hole in the barn's ceiling and roof was gone, finally, after some hours of work—thankfully, peaceful work.

It had not been peaceful when Roderich had come in, but was he surprised? Hardly. The man seemed to have it out for him, wanting him to mess up, at something, anything, so he could send him away with a delightedly-evil laugh.

But…the Edelstein's behavior at the end had been surprising; why had he been staring at him like so? That was the question on the Beilschmidt's mind as he descended from the barn; stupidly, he missed the last step, and Gilbert found himself plummeting to the ground. His saving grace came in two parts—One, the bushel of hay he landed in, and two, the fact that no one was around to see him fall flat on his face.

"Grr…Stupid Austrian." It was that priss's fault he had fallen! He had been thinking about his…staring, so that had…

…Whatever. Gilbert let out a huff, standing up and brushing himself off with quickness and ease, the straws of hay that had buried themselves in his hair falling to the soil and dirt below.

…But he could not help but wonder why Roderich had stared…like _that_.

No one had looked at him like that before; they had stared, oh, he had lost count of the number of children that had stared at him on the streets, letting out 'Mommy, that man looks like an animal!'. But back there…

Roderich's gaze had actually been…different.

There had been hidden emotions in his eyes, and the albino could not discern them; they were so mysterious, and the elder had meant to hide them from Gilbert, too. No matter how much he longed to pick at the brunette's brain with words or a hand, he knew it was futile. The Austrian had been thinking something, and Gilbert truly had no idea what it was. Why even speculate? It could have been the most negative thing in the world—it most likely _was _the most negative thing in the world. Why would he even think something positive about the Beilschmidt?

Whatever—why did he even care, anyway?

He was 'The Master'. His opinion was law, but that did not mean Gilbert had to stand around and listen to it, or even care about it. Nor did he have to stand there, in that physical spot, any longer; with his job being done, Gilbert made his way towards the home once more.

And his timing could not have been better; Roderich had already finished his meal, and the girls were eating the leftover breakfast in the kitchen; the doors were closed, their Master not to be found, and there was a relaxed atmosphere—so relaxed that Mei was seated secretly atop the table, her plate in her dainty lap, shoes resting under the table. Natalia was the only one standing, eating with a sour face, her nearly-soulless eyes staring out the window above the kitchen sink.

"AH! Mister Gilbert!" Mei proclaimed as he entered, the two seated ladies glancing up with small smiles on their faces—so, the newcomer had survived his first job.

"Please, please, sit! Sit! Eat something!" The Asian girl squealed with delight, running over to grab Gilbert's arm and drag him to an available chair; it was clearly evident that Mei was fond of Gilbert from the start—most likely because she was so used to not being around men, and her only male support had been whisked away from her. Whether it was a school-girl crush, or just pure admiration, remained to be seen—he most likely would find out in time.

The red-eyed male followed Mei's orders, sitting with a laugh, and an 'Alright, don't rush me, Sweet-cheeks!'. The plate put before him was more than he could have ever hoped for—a single scrambled egg, a single strip of bacon, and two pieces of toast. He had actually been expecting less than that—something unsustainable, meager, scrimpy. Or, Gilbert figured, he would be given little, while the maids were given much.

But no, that was not the case—each had the same amount for their meal, each had the same type of plates and silverware, and each had the same carefree smile.

"Oh, Mona, are Roderich's new tailored jackets ready for pick-up this afternoon?"

"Yes, and we should stop by Maurice's place—I am sure the designs for the new violins are ready to be picked up."

"Mei, will you help me with the dishes after you work in the garden?"

"OH! Of course, Natalia, yes, yes!"

They were all having joyous chatter, and Gilbert could not help but find it odd; he had not been surrounded by a table of a group of people that was, in essence, a family, in what seemed like ages. He could vaguely remember the old family dinners of the Beilschmidt household…

Adele, cooking the finest pork and beef, chopping vegetables, making sweet preserves from the freshest fruit…Frederich, laughing and joking with his sons while mother cooked; sometimes he broke tradition and actually assisted his wife in her usual domain. Unfortunately, only Ludwig had been able to pick up on traits involving culinary skills—Gilbert was as helpless as a fish in that department.

Anyway, putting the debacle that was the albino's cooking skills aside, he could feel the warmth that had begun to emanate from the kitchen, as chores and deliveries and the rest of the day's plans were discussed. It was still early in the daylight time, just a little past ten o' clock in the morn, and all were ready to get to work.

Gilbert watched them flutter about as their meals were finished, Mona downing her eggs with rapid speed, egging Belle on to do the same so they could 'visit Maurice before he became too busy'; she complied, and they grabbed light coats, and headed towards the door. But, before they left, Mona came back into the kitchen, heading right for the Beilschmidt.

"Roderich has asked that you get started on the follow chores once your breakfast is finished; he wants the floors all scrubbed down, first. You'll find the bucket and sponge underneath the kitchen sink, so please use that. You should dust some of the furniture and bookshelves as well; at one o' clock in the afternoon, you are to bring him his tea, too."

"…" Gilbert had to blink, and make sure his mind had registered the entire list of orders, "R-Right…Okay, what-"

"At three o' clock, I should be done with the errands Belle and I need to complete; we will begin making supper, and you should help us. We will also begin preparing for tomorrow night's meal with Miss Elizaveta, who is to be a guest. Afterwards, he may have other work for you to do, he will let you know then. We will be having lunch around two o' clock, and supper shall be ready by five or sometime after. Understood?"

"…Yes?"

Mona's brow furrowed, "You sound unsure."

"Well, I would have preferred to have it in writing-"

A sigh, "Just remember it the best you can! The rest of us do not use paper to list our chores, we use our memories; Master Roderich hates to waste paper, so he will not create a list for you other than a verbal one."

"Alright, alright." Gilbert waved a hand lazily, "I got it, just go and do…whatever you have to."

The blonde lass nodded, and took off after her companion, the front door slamming behind them. In the midst of the conversation, Natalia had taken her leave as well; she had in turn gone to straighten up the bedroom of her Master, and make sure the others were in the best condition—and in the condition they had been in as of last night.

Only Mei remained, her figure still sitting on the table, and she glanced over at Gilbert as he crunched and munched on his piece of bacon; he could not help but feel a little self-conscious at her gaze, even though he felt no attraction for it. No woman had gazed at him with any form of affection and kindness for ages, not since his mother—those two whores he had slept with before admitting his homosexuality in secrecy did not count—and that had been years and years ago.

In a way, he could see bits and pieces of his deceased maternal figure in each of the maids, and that thought caused his chewing to slow; he could still remember her perfect hair, her shining cerulean eyes, full of docile care; he used to be picked up like a china-doll as a child, and hugged close. Close enough to where he could touch her hair, snuggle into her embrace, her warm embrace…

…_Mother…_

"Mister Gilbert? Are you alright?"

Red orbs blinked; his hand that held a fork had lowered itself somewhat, and his eyes had gazed off in the distance, while still looking downward at the table; but upon Mei's probe, he gazed at her confused face, full of warm concern.

"…You do not have to say 'Mister', you know…"

"I know, but you are so much older than me! It…It is a sign of respect!" Was her cheerful reply, a bright smile coming onto her face that even the hardened Gilbert Beilschmidt could melt at.

"Not that much older. By what, five years? You look very young for eighteen, you know."

A blush came to the dame's face, and she shyly looked away, "Thank you. My mother was young at my age, as well. It is a family trait, heh."

"…Family traits…" Oh, he knew of those, certainly…

"…What was your family like, Mister Gilbert?"

"…" A few blinks, and a setting-down of a fork, "M-My family?"

"Yes, Mona told me…you used to have parents. What were they like?"

"…Special, that's a word you could use to describe them."

Mei let out a giggle, "Silly, everyone thinks their parents are special. And they are! To them! I mean…I-I'm sure your parents were very special, but I would find my own more, yes? But tell me, why did you say that word first?"

He could not help but smile at her innocence, "They immigrated here a long time ago; my father used to say that he met my mother while wearing rose-colored glasses…Apparently their courtship was pretty romantic. I think it was…he saw her in front of a hat-shop eyeing this eyesore of a purple hat, with a giant flower in it, and she wanted it so badly. He stupidly ran across the street and bought it for her. Apparently, she had already had her eye on someone else at the time-"

"NO!"

"Yes!" Gilbert laughed, "But according to my father, he handed her the hat, tipped his own, winked, and she was smitten. She thought he had to have some mental disorder; really, a stranger coming up to her, buying her a hat that apparently cost a lot! Who would have done such a thing?"

"Someone special, that is who…" Mei smiled warmly, nodding her head, "That is very romantic to hear, Mister Gilbert. Very romantic. Are you anything like your father?"

At this, the albino let out a roaring laugh, "Oh, NO! No, no, no and _no_. Nope. No. Not at all, I could never do that."

"You sound so sure. Have you ever tried?" The dark-haired girl questioned further, "Surely you must have a woman, or have had one?"

"…" Did whores count?

When Gilbert did not answer her, merely looking away with a line for lips, she murmured, "Oh…You…Have not…"

"No."

"Why not? You are a very nice man; or, at least, I think so." Mei frowned, and, while still sitting on the table, she folded her dainty hands upon her even-daintier lap, looking at the wooden floor.

"I am not exactly the most…attractive man, Mei. And I do not have money-"

"N-Not all women want money!" The Asian girl shouted in return, a look of sadness on her face, "And one day, a woman will find you greatly attractive, Mister Gilbert! S-So you are not the traditional…handsomeness that women look at? That does not mean a thing! One day, someone will see you for yourself!"

"…" _She is so naïve and young…She has not learned how it works…_

"You do not believe me." Mei dropped the statement like a hard stone, having taken Gilbert's silence for a remark of disbelief.

"…No. I do not. Mei, you must realize-"

"Mister Gilbert, I know what you are thinking. That…I do not understand because I am five years younger than you; and that I have not lived in your shoes, but…but there has to be some hope! You cannot just think that you will end up alone for the rest of your life!"

"And if I do?" He countered with, and Mei's shoulders visibly slumped,

"Who wants to live a life like that? Is it not just…horrible? I have hope that I will find someone one day! And…And that I shall one day find Karou, and we…we will be together again, I am certain!"

"…" For a moment, Gilbert was silent, merely looking away, while stating calmly, "You have a great deal of optimism, don'tcha?"

Mei's next statement was quite surprising, "In a world where I am taken from my home, and have to serve under people, a person must have hope."

"…And if we have never had hope before?"

This in turn caused the chocolate-haired lass to smile, hop off the table, and make her way to the Prussian's side, "Then is it not a great chance to start, Mister Gilbert? Perhaps you will meet a nice woman now that you are under Master Roderich's care!"

She looked so happy, so sure, that he could not refuse a smile to her pretty face, and give her an acquiesced nod, "Sure. Why not? He might come to like me enough that he'll give me a girl, heh."

Mei gave a delighted glee, and a small clap of her hands, "And now I must take my leave, I have many chores to do! I shall see you soon!"

With a pleasant squeeze to Gilbert's shoulder, she left the room in a hurried gait, running out the back door to her garden.

She looked so happy, he thought…So happy…

…He did not have the heart to crush her optimism with the fact that he knew he was a homosexual…

…And could never love a woman like she figured he would…

* * *

Breakfast finished hours ago, the white-locked male glanced at his reflection against the wooden floor of the hallway; he was on his knees, said knees digging into the shining wood, and he had been at it for many, many minutes, scrubbing and polishing the surfaces of the floor, while grunting at the exertion.

First had been the kitchen, and my, had that been a workout. A ratty bucket, and an old sponge had been his only companions as he got the job done, and Gilbert was certain he never wanted to see a damn sponge or water-holding device ever again. He had never had to scrub or wash floors before; and dragging in buckets of water? Well, he was used to that—had to do it every so often to bathe, anyway, so that part of the job was no big obstacle.

…Granted, he tripped over an exquisite rug while coming into the kitchen on the first try, the water spilling everywhere, thankfully missing most of the rug…

…_Most _of the rug.

B-But that was unimportant, he was certain that no one would care if the rug had…stains of water on it.

…He could always blame it on a vase overturning?

…Too bad there was no vase there in the vicinity…

"…Whatever." He had no time to worry about it, and the kitchen was cleaned with brusqueness; but, Gilbert, having not been used to scrubbing such a large area, found his knees becoming sore very quickly.

And now that he had moved on to the hallways, his knees were in dreadful pain; but he kept going, feeling that he was secretly being watched, from some corner of the large domain. Perhaps he was, perhaps he was not—he was certain that that stupid aristocrat was still in his office—but who knew? He might have come out and spied on him once in a while, Gilbert was too absorbed in getting the floor to shine.

He had never had a good work ethic; this idea had been known for years by his family, and it had always been stated that one day, Ludwig would have taken over the family business. He was the logical, Gilbert was the illogical. The blond the crafty, the silver-haired unable to craft a single thing; the stoic German versus the loud and exuberant Prussian. Adele had been Ludwig's quiet and strong influence; Gilbert had been filled with stories of his father, when he himself was young.

In more recent times, Gilbert kept up the trend of not being able to hold a job, or work in a business—he was usually fired a day or two into the situation, scorned by the owners and proprietors; and his 'bad name' would be spread around the block, and doors would be slammed in his face before the twenty-three year old could even finish uttering his own name.

But here, this was different—the situation was wrapped up in steel-tight thread, the color of their blood staining it perfectly, even though there had been no true physical violence, save for a slap. They were bound to one another, whether he or Roderich liked it or not. No legalities were needed—who needed a contract when you had the perfect reasons, on each side, to not let go of what they had achieved?

He let out a breathe, though; sitting back, Gilbert moved his head backwards, cracking a stiff neck, while throwing a used sponge back into the bucket where it belonged; he needed at least five minutes of relaxation. Unfortunately, he had glanced at the grandfather clock standing in the hall—it was one o' clock, and he was certain that there had been something he was ordered to do at this…time…

…

"Shit." The tea! See, this was why he needed a written list! Oh, and he had not gotten around to dusting, the floors had taken too much time!

The platinum-blond, silver-streaked male began to wonder how exactly maids and butlers _did_ everything they were assigned to do…_And_ still have time to breathe.

The kitchen floor was still wet as he ran into it, and the Beilschmidt nearly slipped on the floor, barely catching his balance on the counter in time. The teapot was grabbed, water put into it with the new, but somehow aged, plumbing that Roderich had scattered around the house. As of current knowledge, Gilbert only knew of him having a shower, and a kitchen sink—and the kitchen sink water was to be used sparingly; plumbing was just beginning to come forth, the technology still new, and very volatile. And Roderich was not to have sink become broken and faulty because of someone not using their discretion correctly.

The stove had wood thrown into it, heating up slowly while the pot was put on a wire over it, the flames heating the bottom; shit, shit shit! He was going to be late, and who knew how the brunette reacted when things were late. He might have a foot hit his face this time!

Mug and tea leaves and packet prepared, with a hint of sugar and lemon, and Gilbert was ready to take it to the study; a silver tray had been left out by Mona for the delivery, and he nearly dropped it in his rush—Thank the Stars he caught it, what if Roderich had heard it clatter?—and had to take multiple calm breaths to ensure a safe delivery.

Two knocks, loud and clear, and the red-eyed male let out a sigh; someone should have told him this title of servant was going to be harder than he thought!

"Yes, you may enter."

The cherry-wood door swung open, "I-I have your tea-"

"You are late." Roderich stated, not even looking up from his paper work and scribblings.

"By ten minutes, at the most!" Gilbert protested, and this time, violet eyes glanced up, a dark eyebrow rising in suit.

"Ten minutes is ten minutes. You are no longer to be late, is that clear? Yes, I understand tea takes time to make, but then start making it early, or earlier than you would. I have little patience for tardiness."

"…Fine." Gilbert huffed, setting the tray down on the desk, giving the elder a bit of a glare as he righted his body, glancing around the office; bookshelves lines the two walls on his right and left sides, classics and tomes donning every single shelf, while bookends of angels held them in tight packs. Two busts existed—one of Beethoven, one of Liszt—one on each side. Many of these authors were just recently published, or had just set foot into the writing world, but it failed to surprise Gilbert that the Edelstein had copies of their novels and short stories.

There were musical books set around as well; some being biographies of composers, others held histories of types of music; of sonatas, of symphonies, of operas! And behind Roderich's desk, on either side of the large bay windows, were musical pieces, encased in glass to protect them from the environment—what they were of, he could not say, for Gilbert was not close enough to read them.

"You may leave now, you know." Roderich raised his head again, subconsciously brushing back a bang or two from his forehead, the hair falling into the spot from having been bent over his work for minute after minute.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm leavin', don't have to tell me twi-…" He stopped, something upon the desk catching his eye, the glint of the sunlight streaming in hitting a piece of glass…that was in actuality a picture frame.

A black-and-white photograph of a long-haired lass met his eyes; she held a parasol in a dainty hand, and she was not fully smiling at the camera; there was a hint of a grin, but it was very vague, almost hidden, as if behind a wall. Her hair flowed past her shoulders, a dimple framing that nearly-invisible smile. Her eyes were a dark hue, and they seemed to be twinkling like stars—Gilbert felt a twitch in his body, of a foreign emotion, and he could not help but ask,

"Is this her?" _Are you that lucky? You have money, fame, and a pretty person…And I bet…I bet there is more to the story than you are telling me…_

"'Her'? You should elaborate-"

"Elizaveta Héderváry." Red eyes met violet, and Roderich found himself sitting up straighter.

"Yes, even if it is none of your business, that is her."

"…Pretty." Gilbert commented, a little smirk on his face, "Guess you are an even luckier bastard than I originally thought."

"…Yes, she is…pretty. But I fail to see how that makes me lucky-"

"Because you love her. And she loves you." He did not even wait for the Austrian to finish his sentence; the interruption came like a spear, and there it was, in the open air; and, like a spear, it was large, and sharp, and was stuck in the wall, or the desk, between the two of them.

"E-Excuse me?" Roderich stood with a flourish, and he had found his hand jarring, the word he had been writing turning into chicken scratch, "That is quite an assumption-"

"Look, don't try to hide it, Master. No guy keeps a photograph of a woman on his desk without a reason, unless she is his mistress or sister."

"…Very well." The other crosses his arms, fixing his glasses beforehand, sitting further back in his chair, "I do love her. She is my fiancée and we shall be wed in a few months."

…Why had the lie come so easily?

…Why?

Was it because it was Gilbert? Because he wanted the answer out in the air to the man now, and wanted…wanted him to know? And do what with the information?

…_It is not as if it is pertinent information for him, yes…?_

…But there was that feeling again…In Roderich's stomach…

Something bubbling…Boiling…

…When would it boil over…?

But Gilbert seemed unfazed by the statement, and Roderich was unsure why he felt…annoyed by that; the albino merely responded with,

"Oh? Really? I guess I should have…well, guessed. You go through a lot of trouble for her."

"…A-Ah…Well…" Why could he not just say 'Yes'? He said it to everyone who asked a similar question…

…So why was Gilbert so hard to lie to right now…?

And then, then unexpected; an unexpected smirk, almost a haughty smile, as if the Beilschmidt had gained other-worldly knowledge,

"Too bad I don't _really _think you are in love with her."

There was glass shattering somewhere; it was as if a priceless ring had been shattered, or all the mirrors in the world.

How…How…

….How did he know…?

Was it just a guess? Yes?

"…E-Excuse me?" Shit, he had stuttered!

"You are not in love with her. That's what I said."

"…" _Breathe, Roderich, breathe…_ "Oh? And what proof of that do you have?"

Gilbert shrugged, "First off, you do not talk about her as if you're in love. Not to me, anyway."

"W-Well, I-" _I had a reason for that…! …Now if I could only realize what it was…_

"You don't act like someone in love, either."

At this, Roderich found the chance to gain some upper ground with a scoff, "HA! And you know of love?"

"…Enough about it to know when someone is in love, and when they are not."

"Oh, really?" Amethyst eyes rolled, "I am sure you are so wise, _Gilbert Beilschmidt_, but," He stood, dusting off his jacket, "I have no time for your little inane and false facts, so please, leave my presence-"

"But I have another reason you might want to hear, you know…" Gilbert smirked, moving to block Roderich's path, the Austrian huffing,

"Perhaps I do not want to-"

"Someone who is in love with a woman does not stare at a man like how you did earlier."

"…"

…W-What?

WHAT?

"_WHAT_?"

"You heard me." Oh, he thought himself so sly, did he? Leaning against his desk as if he had discovered the Holy Grail, ruby eyes glistening with mirth, arrogance, and thousands of other emotions Roderich detested,

"I heard you. But you are a buffoon. For I was not staring at you any way! And what are you stating, hm? That I am staring you in the way that…what? That shows a…a…"

"A homosexuality reference? Yes."

"WHAT?"

"You stared me as if you were attracted to me. Simple as that. And no man in love with a woman would do such a thing so blatantly in front of another man. Hell, any man that was engaged would not do that!"

"I did not do such a thing, you liar! And how do you know I was just glaring at you? Or staring at you with disdain?"

A snort, "Please. That little open mouth? And your face was flushed-"

"NO IT WAS NOT!" Roderich could not help but scream at the other, hands fisted at his sides now, shaking; no, no, no, NO! He had not stared at him in an admiring way, not-

…And now the image of that haloed Gilbert in the barn was haunting him, and he could not help but admit how striking the other male had been, how perfect, how…how…

"Oh? It was not?"

"NO! You idiot, I would never stare at you in such a way! I-" When did they get so close? He could reach out and touch Gilbert's chest, if he wished, "I have no idea what you are speaking of, you insolent fool. Firstly, I am not that kind of person, and second, I am happily engaged to a wonderfully intelligent woman who is beautiful-"

"So then why are you a homosexual?"

Wrath filled Roderich's eyes, and he willed any form of a blushing away, "Why do you care about my marriage, my feelings? Why are you asking such a thing? Are you one of them, a homosexual, perchance?"

"Actually, yes."

That had not been the answer the Edelstein had been expecting; and he had just gone to pick up his tea, and had sipped it, and the instant the statement had taken form and become alive, the light-brown liquid spewed from the brunette's mouth, going everywhere, including the servant before him.

"…W-What did you just say?"

The white-haired male shrugged, "Might as well tell you, right? I'm a homosexual."

"…" Was he hearing Gilbert right? "…Y-You…You are…"

"Yeah, I'm 'one of those people.'" Gilbert rolled his eyes, "It's not a big deal, is it? Frankly, there are lots of us-"

"I do not want to hear about your 'us'-"

"Oh, but you should," Was the final interruption, "You should. We are around, you know."

"I-I…I…" Purple orbs closed, just for a moment, Roderich shaking his head, and letting out a sigh, "It is most certainly a big deal, Beilschmidt. In case you have been in a cave for the past many, many years, homosexuality is a crime in this nation, and I could certainly report you."

"Oh," Gilbert nodded, "I know. But you won't report me."

"And why ever not?"

And there was that devilish grin again, and this time, the Prussian leaned in, their noses almost touching as the younger let out a tiny laugh,

"Heh. Not only would it make you look horrible, having someone like me under your roof as a servant, but…I am pretty sure you are a part of that 'us' I mentioned."

"…"

Roderich did not know whether to scream at Gilbert for his idiocy or actually give a nod of approval at his partial statement of logic; it was true, the first part. If word got around that Roderich had accidentally hired a homosexual for a servant, his reputation could be tarnished for life—he could see the future headlines now, proclaiming that he had known and had hidden the sinner in his mists! Or, worse, that he had not known and was an incompetent fool. And then there was the Héderváry family to think about—would they cancel the marriage? Although that was…a lovely aspect and idea, it could not happen. His mother would die of shock, his father would be shamed, and what of him?

And then there was the fact that Gilbert had called him…had said…had…

"How dare you assume that I am one of…those people! I would never divulge in lewd and sinful acts-"

"Well, aren't you just a peachy and moral man," The albino rolled his eyes, "Saying what I think and feel is sinful, while you can go around slapping servants."

Roderich started at the statement, "How…T-That is an entirely different situation!"

"Is it? You're talking about sin, you know. And last time I checked, God said-"

"God? Oh, you are going to talk to me about God? HA!" Roderich scoffed, "A homosexual, talking to me about Our Lord; that is a very funny joke. "

"Well, not that I _believe_ in a God-"

"OH?" The brunette had walked a step back towards his desk, his back to the other, but he whipped around at the statement, "Well, that explains a lot, and it makes you hypocritical!" A huff, and then Roderich continued with, "Sometimes, you truly are a godless heathen, you know." Roderich spat, his voice venom-filled with anger, "Marching around all high and mighty when you come here, and talking to me like such, conversing with the maids about God-knows-what, your life, me, whatever, I know you do it, and now you are talking about me as if I am some sort of-"

"Godless heathen? HA! You want me to believe in _YOUR_ God?"

"Should you not, Gilbert?"

The albino frowned, "Listen, Specs, I don't know what the hell you are thinking about me, nor do I necessarily care. You've never seen what I've seen. You've never had to live off a loaf of bread for an entire three-day period. You've never had to watch your own father die while coughing up blood and pissin' on himself. You haven't seen a damn thing, you've been too absorbed with that silver spoon your Mother continually feeds you with."

"W-Well, I-"

"Save it. You're assuming you're better than me because you can play Chopin, or Mozart, or other composers. And you think you're better than me because you apparently have feelings for a girl, but I still find that to be a load of nonsense. But you have no idea about ME. You haven't seen my Hell, my Heaven, what I went through, what I want-but that's because you don't care. And how are you to know that I don't know how to play a song on an instrument? Or that I have a religion of my own? One that doesn't include your God?"

"You? Religion? _Music_?" A scoff, a scathing laugh, "Please, you would not have the talent to even learn a simple song-"

A flash of ruby eyes, a light of pure anger, cut the brunette's words off; he had no time to reconcile, or to say more, or to even ask what it was that Gilbert had become so furious about indeed. For the albino male turned on his heels, and marched out of the room, slamming the door behind him with a clang that was loud enough to shake books and glass cases.

And Roderich could not help the sinking feeling in his gut...or the pitter-patter of his heart at the way the Beilschmidt's orbs had looked...so marvelous in that fit of anger…

"G-Get back here, this instant! Our conversation was not finished! I SHOULD FIRE YOU RIGHT NOW!"

But no answer came; he could fire him for his homosexuality, his insolence, his godlessness, he being a heathen, a monster, a ludicrous human being…

…A being that had lovely eyes…NO! NO! Stop thinking like that! That was merely proving Gilbert's point that he…he…

…Could he admit it silently to himself?

Yes, the male had…_unique_ qualities that a…fool could find…_attractive_.

…But he was no fool. Therefore Gilbert was not…_attractive_. He was just…_aesthetically pleasing. _Not a comment of a fool, for he was Roderich Sebastian Edelstein.

With a worn body, the brunette returned to his desk chair with a sigh; another failed conversation with the other male of the house? What was this? Two for two?

…But it was definitely mysterious…

Why? Why had he reacted about that to…music?

Gilbert surely did not know a single song on any instrument; he was uncultured, why would he? That was ludicrous.

…

…Right?

"…" Roderich wanted to scream aloud, strike down something, anything; usual, considering he was calm the majority of the time. Only this…twit could get under his skin. Only he could make his world flip upside down with a smile, and a comment.

…_You have only yourself to blame, you know. You are the one thinking such…things…_

…Who was he fooling? He was not thinking this, but some Spirit was thinking it…

Or was he silently musing over the question in his heart?

That would be the only explanation for his action:

Silently turning away Elizaveta's picture, so it was now face down on the desk.

It had been staring at him like an Angel of God, passing Judgment…

Knowing that he was a liar…

A pure sinner, a pure liar…

Because Roderich knew the truth…He knew what he was thinking about Gilbert was…wrong, but…those thoughts, those images, of that holy face with that evil, diabolical, worth-slapping smirk…they were still there…

And he relished in it…

Why else would they keep coming back…? Those visions, those ideas…?

Lies came and went…

…The truth lingered forever…

…A haunting memory…

That was all it was…

Whether he wanted to realize it or not…

The truth was there, forever…


	7. Missing You

A/N: Hello again everyone! Finally, college is out for the summer, and it is back to writing for good old me! I thank you all so much for being patient, I really do. "Sonata" and "Savior" are the two titles I'll be concentrating on, while everything else is not going to be worked on.

Thanks again, so let's get started on chapter seven!

I highly reccommend listening to the actual Bach's 'Chaconne' while reading the chapter :) You can find videos of it on Youtube.

Vivaldi's music also inspired this chapter.

* * *

7

Missing You

* * *

…_A thousand suns will stream on thee,__  
__A thousand moons will quiver;__  
__But not by thee my steps shall be,__  
__For ever and for ever._

_- Taken from "A Farewell"_

_By Alfred Lord Tennyson_

* * *

He had not been fired; in all actuality, he had not even been spoken to about…any of it. Not the storming out of his Master's office, not the comments he made, not even his anger or accusations.

Actually, Roderich had not spoken a word to him; they had met in hallways while Gilbert had dusted, but neither looked each other in the eye. The white-haired male glanced at the other, but the violet-eyed human did not even spare him a look, his face a mask of oblivion, a facade of obliviousness; or, if there had been glances from the richer (And there had been, Gilbert had just failed to see them), they had been so fleeting that the working male had failed to catch them.

The afternoon had passed without much event. None of the maids had heard the shouting and the arguments, thank the Lamb of God, or Gilbert was certain a specific blonde maid would have yelled at him for hours on end for nearly getting himself fired—on the second day of being in the house.

But if there was one thing that had occurred, it was anger—Oh, Roderich's comment on music had made rage explode in the Beilschmidt's veins; fiery rage that could not be quelled, and each time he saw his father's face in his mind, it made him dust harder, or stomp around the house louder, or put up icier walls that even made the docile Mei shiver.

_He knows nothing, he knows nothing… HE. KNOWS. NOTHING!_

_I HAD TALENT, DAMMIT! I HAD IT!_

His father had once said that he would be great at the violin; that he would teach him Mozart next, then perhaps some Chopin…

_WHY?_

Why, indeed? Why did it have to be ruined by a twist of Fate? What God had hated him so much that he had to take everything away…?

That was why there was no God—people had been demons to him, and he had could only ask at the time where was his Savior, and He had never come during it all.

And Gilbert could not help but stare at his hands as he sat upon his thin mattress; could they even play a single note now? Did they remember anything at all? Even how to hold a bow? How many years had it been? Four, at the minimum. Perhaps even five, if he did the math correctly.

_And he said I had nothing…That music did not matter to me…_

His eyes were wet with tears; alone, the door closed, he could afford for them to be. The maids had gone to bed hours ago, and the sun had set along with them. Dinner had been quiet, meager chatter between all of them, the larger supper afterwards just as so.

Normally he would never cry—Gilbert thought of himself as too much of a man for that, but it had been years since he had even thought of shedding tears; when had it been? His father's funeral…?

_Had it all been a waste…? A waste? To learn the 'Chaconne'? _

…_Father…_

Pale, cold hands gripped the thin blanket, squeezing the life out of the soulless object; he just had to take deep breaths. Yes…many, many deep breaths, that would calm him, it always did, whenever there was a fit of anxiety that just crawled into his heart and choked his breath away…

The bed was warmer than his hands, if there was any consolation; but the wall he turned to gaze upon was drab, a dark brown that had its hue hidden due to the lack of light. There was nothing left but to sleep, but in this plain "room", where his eyes were still wet with resentment and despising of human beings (Not necessarily the Edelstein—For Gilbert had to admit there were worse people than him in the world), difficulties abounded…

…But sleep had never been that difficult for him…

Not even in times of chilled weather and emotions…

* * *

_He had had dreams like such before; he was not viewing the scenes before him above, like Shiva or Allah; nor was he viewing it from his own eyes, as he looked at the world on a daily basis, but he was there, standing on the street, an apparition of the past while they all walked past him. He was not there, but was there, in his clothes from the day before. It was as if in these dreams he entered a time machine of his own invention, tired and worn, not wanting to see what was before him._

_But his curiosity remained; what year was he dreaming now? 1831? He would have been…thirteen, then? Yes, thirteen…Ten years ago would…also mean…_

"_Oh, Frederich, slow down! Ahaha!"_

_He lifted his head; Gilbert had begun this dream leaning against an old shop on Charles Avenue that was now gone, having turned to dust years and years ago, but here it was…alive in another dimension of reality that he could only reach when his eyes were closed and his body shut down._

_…And in this dimension..._

_His mother was still alive._

"_Darling, just walk faster!" Frederich shouted, and Gilbert felt a lump catch in his throat; even at middle-aged, the Prussian male was a stickler for keeping up his energy, and running down the street now was no exception. _

_Was this a day that had actually occurred? Or was Gilbert's mind making it up?_

…_Ah, no, this was real, he remembered this day…_

"_But the boys cannot keep up!" Adele shouted back, her hair billowing under her pink bonnet—what had happened to that bonnet, by the way? Oh, yes, one of the debtor's wives had…taken it…_

"_Oh, they shall be fine, we are almost there!"_

_As a silent, invisible sentinel, the grown-up Gilbert followed the apparitions of his parents, but stopped when he heard a little voice,_

"_WAIT UP! OH, FATHER!"_

_He spun on his heel just in time for a miniature version of himself to run not past him, but through him, sparkles coming off of the real Gilbert's body; slowly, he turned again, to see his teenage-self run after the adults, a slicked-with sweat-and-springtime-air hand holding on to ten-year old Ludwig._

_He remembered this day…They were going into a square, near the closest park to their home, and as he followed the ghosts that haunted him, it turned out true._

_He saw his little self, eager and with shaggier hair than he had now (And that in itself was a miracle!) , lifted onto Frederich's shoulders, while Adele in turn lifted up her youngest son, as they made their way through the large crowd that had gathered. _

_There was a show being put on, in the bright June sunlight; a musical troupe had come into London's squares, going to and fro performing with their glorious talent and instruments shining in the rays of Helios. They did ask for money, in the silent way with their cases out, said cases having open mouths that would greedily accept change and bills. There was also a bucket available for placement of coins, too. _

_Today, it was a trio of violinists accompanied by a cello player; their songs had already begun, and the notes wafted about the London air with bright elegance. Gilbert wondered if those little sparks of light he saw in this dream were real…or had there truly been magic on that day?_

_"Do you see them, Gilbert?" Frederich proclaimed with pride, "Are they not splendid?"_

_The younger Beilschmidt responded, "Father…How…How do they play like that?"_

_The real Gilbert remembered thinking that there was magic in their souls; he remembered wondering how they were able to create masterpieces out of hands and wood, and he had pretended to see magical creatures echoing forth, as if their songs were mythical stories. There was color, there was sound, there were fairies and Change…_

_And again, seeing it here, there still was all of it…And maybe even more._

_He proceeded forward, p assing through bodies, to get closer to his dream-self; what wide eyes he had had back then! And his skin had not been as pale, his body not having as much gaunt! His eyes had been brighter, too, oh how he missed that!_

_They began a concerto by Bach next, just as Gilbert trailed his eyes down his father's being; tall, lean, but muscular, and a proud stance. Silver curls were atop his head, but it was in all actuality a wig—he had been the blonde in the family, while his mother's head was crowned with silver threads, and for a split second, Gilbert could not but help gaze upon the woman, and how the hair flowed out of her bonnet, it being long, and large, and not held in the hat entirely. _

_Neither parent had Gilbert's eyes, no one truly knew where that came from; but, unlike so few parents, they did not question their son's eyes, or his skin, and his hair was from Adele's family, for silver hair, white hair, ran in it frequently, a gene of unknown mystery. They were just happy to have sons, that was all, sons who enjoyed so many things…_

_Adele was leaning on Frederich's shoulder now; Ludwig, not as entranced as his brother was, gazed about the crowd, most likely wondering when something more interesting was coming about, or when he could go back to his books and sweets. _

"_Son, they play because they have been blessed by Angels…"_

_"Is that the only way one can play?"_

_His diction had changed so much in ten years…Frederich had taught him fine speaking-skills; they were dead with him now, in present time._

"_Angels give a man talent, child; but it also takes hard work. Determination, too! Practicing every day and night, never stopping, must also be done. But, one must also be able to hear the music…in here!" Lightly, the elder poked the child Gilbert's chest, right above his heart._

"_Here?"_

_"Here."_

_"Why?"_

"_For, if you cannot hear the song within your heart, if the sonata cannot be felt within your veins, in your very blood, then…"_

_The scene flashed, pausing, and the adult Gilbert could say the end of the statement; there was a tear streaming down on his cheek, and he could only murmur,_

_"…Then you can always play it, as long as you can feel it…Even without an instrument, it plays in you."_

…_Suddenly, it felt as if he could not breathe; falling, falling too, that was all around him, the feeling of falling and bubbles of escaping oxygen, and the real Gilbert, in this fantasy world, felt as if he was choking on Abandonment, and he reached upward, scourging for a foothold, a handhold, as the scene above him continued, his child self nodding in glee..._

_His vision was becoming like a tunnel, the scene growing smaller and smaller, as if he was moving away from a hole in a wall that saw it all…_

…_And his vision ended with his parents vanishing, only his child image remaining above, while his lungs tightened further; through a miracle only capable of happening in dream-esque circumstances, Gilbert managed to let out a choked scream, aimed directly at the little boy looking down at him, with narrowed eyes full of some…dark, almost evil emotion that Gilbert could not name._

"_COME BACK!"_

_Those words…He could not say exactly where they had come from; what did he want back? Everything?_

_The picture-perfect family that had shattered? The glass that had spilled everywhere when the frame had smashed, did he want it back in perfect form?_

_Either way, the child did not respond, merely turning on his heel…and walking away…_

…_It had blurred to whiteness, and all Gilbert could see was the cobblestone street he laid upon; what year now? What day? Slowly, he sat up, but he need not ask further questions…_

"_ADELE, MY PRECIOUS ADELE!"_

_It was mass hysteria outside their modest brick and metal home; a hearse, black as night, stood outside the home, along with a cart for the neighborhood doctor._

_Sixteen year old Gilbert stood on the sidewalk, hugging himself as his father ran screaming from the abode, his dead wife covered with a sheet on a stretcher; Frederich nearly tripping over the steps as he ran behind the corpse, carried by two burly Englishmen, enlisted by the doctor for this special job._

"_Take her to the funeral home, and make sure the corpse starts being prepared." The bearded medical human murmured to the driver of the hearse, "Label the death as heart failure. Time of death…" A quick glance at his watch, "Four fifteen P.M. The month of August, the year of 1834."_

_The attendant of the hearse gave a nod, neither man wanting to pay attention to the grieving husband, who sloppily sobbed as the stretcher was lifted into the hearse; the shaking Frederich managed to grasp his wife's hand one last time, it having fallen out from under the sheet. He let out a scream at the sudden coldness, falling back onto the ground, and the real Gilbert, viewing the scene with shivering limbs, was only a few inches behind him at the time. _

_His sixteen year old self, having survived puberty, could only hang his head slightly, but still watching the scene with wet eyes, and even wetter cheeks, a lip being bit at the same time. It had been his job to watch…_

…_And to make sure Ludwig had not seen a thing._

_The albino teen's hand covered his younger sibling's eyes, despite his whines and pleads; the order had been shouted by Frederich at the last minute,_

_"COVER LUDWIG'S EYES! DO IT, GILBERT!"_

_So they stood outside, Gilbert holding his hands steadfast, the blond child having not seen a thing; this would instill future resentment between the brothers, sadly. Ludwig feeling that he had never gotten a true chance to say goodbye to his beloved mother, and having been treated like a child during the entire ordeal._

_But the white-haired teen did not remove his hands; simultaneously, he used his hands to take upon himself a burden of watching his dead mother being lifted away, while his father slowly began to lose his sanity, and then gain it back; it had been a horrible beginning, and ended just as badly, too. Their mother had let out a last breath, her sea-colored eyes freezing in place, her mouth open somewhat, letting out a last puff of air._

"_COVER LUDWIG'S EYES! DO IT, GILBERT!"_

_That was when Frederich had shouted the command, right after he let out a heart-wrenching sob, clutching Adele's hand; Gilbert had run out of the room, grabbing his brother, who had been spying in the doorway—eyes were immediately covered with one hand, while Ludwig protested loudly, loud enough to block out the doctor's quiet whispers to the father. The thirteen year old German boy was dragged out of the house, Gilbert trying to rein in his emotions while the final preparations had been done…_

_And here he was, watching the hearse drive away, Frederich standing and watching it, mentally preparing himself to follow it in a few minutes; the burial would be tomorrow. The sooner the better, in all honesty._

…_Had the songs died this day?_

"_Your innocence died this day."_

_He was unsure how this whole world worked, but it did—Sixteen year old Gilbert had turned, locking eyes with his twenty-three year old and real self, grimacing while he spat out the phrase with venom._

"_What innocence?" Was the catty remark, and the teenager only let out a 'hmph'._

"_You had it once. Until you got a taste of the world."_

"_I don't want it back though."_

_"Oh?" The teen quirked an eyebrow, the whole scene having already frozen around them when the first words had been spoken; at this time, it now began to dissolve into dust, "I would say now you want it more than ever. You want your safe haven back. You want your old heart back…"_

_"…Old heart?" He wondered if the confusion he felt was evident on his face._

"…_The heart that used to have songs in it."_

_A rush of icy wind came from behind, as the red-eyed male could only stare with wide eyes as the sixteen year old boy vanished, turning into icy droplets of a substance akin to ice and snow._

…_This was familiar. This had happened in dreams before…_

_He…_

_He knew what was coming next…_

"_Hold it higher, there…Just like that…"_

_The house, now, yes. In the house, in the living room. With an aged Frederich, two years of wrinkles on his brow; his wig seemed stuffier, his clothes heavier on his thinning frame, and the cough that wracked his body was thick, and it made the eighteen year old Gilbert that was in the room with him wince as he held the violin closer._

"_Father…You can teach me later, if you don't feel well…"_

_"No, no…I promised I would teach you this, and I shall. Bach's Ciaccona will be learned, and you will learn how to play it the best out of everyone else."_

_"…But…" Gilbert watched his younger self hesitate, and he could mouth out the words with him, remembering them exactly, "It is the most difficult piece of the movement, you said so yourself!"_

"_I did…I did…say that." Frederich let out a shaky sigh, sinking into a plush chair, hands trembling, "But you can learn it. You have talent. I did not…" He paused, looking around for stray ears, and then murmured, "I bought the violin for you, you know…Not…Not your brother…"_

_"But you said it was for both of us…Why do you say-?"_

_"Because he does not have the desire to play like you do. And I…I see…" Another cough, and Gilbert nearly ran over to his father, but Frederich held up a hand, halting him._

_"See what, Father?"_

_"…More genuine talent in you than I see in him, yes…Plus, he has little interest in playing music. Just listening; listening to it is his only interest. Do not…w-worry, he will not take offense."_

"…_If you are sure-"_

_"Yes, I am. Now…" Frederich lifted a wrinkled hand in silent command, and his son nodded, lifting up the bow; but, before the first note struck, a tremor came from the eighteen year old's voice,_

"_But…what if-"_

_"Gilbert Wilhelm Beilschmidt, you are FINE. Start playing! You are doing wonderful so far, why are you doubtful?"_

_"It's just…"_

_The elder Gilbert, invisible to those he was watching, rolled his eyes at his younger counterpart's hesitance; had he really been this…scared and not awesome as a child?_

…_Then again, if he recalled right, he had reason to be…_

_He had already come to believe that his father was…_

…_A-Although old Frederich had not said it aloud before it was actually TIME…_

…_Gilbert had begun predicting imminent doom in his father about this time; there in turn his confidence was sapped away, like vines had woven and sunk into his heart, and his faith was drained away, in a dark photosynthesis processes. _

"_Just what, Son?"_

"…" _Just that you're dying, just that you're going to leave before I have truly mastered this song, just that I am not Bach, how do I know what I feel while I play is what he wanted me to feel, any of us to feel? _

"…_Play. Have faith in yourself. Do you not have that?"_

_"Of course I do!" That question was enough to send a spark of indignation into the younger Beilschmidt's heart, and with a stern face upon his brow, he lifted his chin defiantly, defiant to all the doubts that plagued his mind, the defeats that were sure to come with his father's health._

_He could hear the song clearly; years and years of not hearing it, not playing it, there it was, floating around in his subconscious, in this dream. With each note the eighteen year old Gilbert played, his twenty-three year old self could recall and nod his head to it…A…D…B…C…Letters that created harmonies and brought the fifth and final movement of Bach's Partita No. 2 in D Minor to life…_

_Gilbert never learned why exactly his father had started with the Chaconne—it was the hardest, and the last of the Partita, so why start with it? Perhaps because of the challenge? Did Frederich want him to start with the most difficult songs so the easier ones would be, well, easier?_

…_Nevertheless, the saddening notes of Bach's music echoed out, the fifth movement a mystical piece that went from dramatic and serious, to somber, to true love; in this dream, the real Gilbert could see little motes of light dancing around his dream-self's head. Rose-colored, emerald, blue and yellow…Were they the emotions he had felt while playing? He could recall that while using the violin all those years ago, his eyes would close on their own, and lights behind their lids would alight, rainbows of emotions and feelings colliding in his heart, creating fireworks._

_The Gilbert with the violin had his lips slightly parted, and the real albino wondered if, if he had a violin, THE violin, would his own face be in a calm state of relaxation, yet crunched up in concentration…?_

…_If he had a violin…_

…_If he had a violin…_

_If…_

_If…_

"_GIVE IT BACK!"_

"_GIVE IT BACK!"_

_He could hear the shouting, and yet, the calm scene in the family living room still played out; Frederich nodding along to each note, to each pass of the bow upon the strings, as Gilbert sped up, slowed down, slowed down even more…then sped up, hips and back moving to the rhythm-_

"_GIVE IT BACK!"_

_Where was the shout coming from? Dare the real Gilbert look around…?_

"_We are here to bury-"_

_"GIVE IT BACK, THAT'S MY FATHER'S!"_

"_The soul having gone to rest-"_

It_ was too much; the other memories were hitting him too fast, like he was flipping through a book of pictures too fast, while flipping backwards at the same time. Quickly, he whipped to his head to the left, and there was the graveyard, and, like an oncoming train, the scene and setting hit him full force, the world in the living room shattering like glass…_

…_But the Ciaccona continued to play…He could still hear it clearly, each and every note…_

_It had not rained when they buried Frederich…Ironic, since that seemed the cliché at that time…_

…_He had just cried. There was that. If that could count as precipitation…_

"_Poor boys." That was heard; heard everywhere, among the muttering crowds; did they know about the business failing? That the debtors were coming, slinking slowly along like shadowy assassins?_

"_Poor boys."_

_"Mmhm, yes. What will they do now?"_

_No one offered help…None of those ladies in their crisp black dresses that dragged on the grass, or with their dark mesh veils covering their faces._

"_Who knows…Gilbert is old enough, he will take care of them both…"_

_So it just…automatically fell to him…?_

_"Oh, true true…Poor dears. No one deserves to see their father go like THAT…"_

_"I heard he had no memory of them before he went…"_

_"NO, REALLY?"_

_Damn rumors…damn rumors…_

"_Poor Ludwig, look at him…He's so scared…"_

_He was scared. Clinging to Gilbert's arm even though by this time the blonde was taller than his elder brother…_

"_Do you think they will leave town? Move?"_

_"Possibly. Maybe the entire COUNTRY, they have nothing left! Or they won't have anything left, that is what I heard from Lucinda down at the market…"_

_Everything…Everything, did they care about everything BUT the actual children suffering…?_

"_GIVE IT BACK, PLEASE! PLEASE, I'LL DO ANYTHING!"_

_Dare he turn? Was looking at…THAT memory worse than this?_

_"Dear God, watch over the soul that has gone unto you this morning…"_

_"…Poor boys…"_

_"Poor Gilbert…"_

_…Why?_

_Why did he have to dream like this?_

"_WHY?" That was the real Gilbert, letting out a scream as the scenes, his father's burial and the tragedy of the debtors piling their home away into carts, combined into a blur._

_Gilbert could see his younger self being pushed into the street by a burly, fat Englishman, who just laughed at the "pathetic child"; said child try to scramble for any item, anything, a blanket, his mother's cross from Germany, his father's guns from Prussia, ANYTHING…_

…_But he tried the hardest for that violin…_

"_PLEASE, PLEASE, JUST LET ME KEEP THAT! SOMETHING!"_

_Ludwig was crying in the distant as a skinner, cheap-skate banker let out a laugh, "THIS? HA! This is an EDELSTEIN violin, a child like you has no use for it! It is worth a fortune!"_

_Edelstein…Edelstein…_

…_And then…came a new part of a dream that had never happened before, but had only begun to occur more recently…_

"_RODERICH!"_

_A shout of his Master's name, and everything shattered; there was nothing but a black void, and he was kneeling in it, while sprinkles of lights dotted around his head. _

"_You screamed for me, you twit?"_

_And he was there…in all his glory, he was there, and Gilbert felt himself tearing up…_

"_R-Roderich…Please…"_

_What? What did he want? What was he begging for? His freedom? Nicer treatment? Treatment that would show that the brunette did…not just think of him as slime? Like how the debtors and bankers and brokers had thought of him? And the people at the funeral? Who thought of him as just…little and a child..._

…_Did he long for some…equality between himself and the aristocrat? Genuine care…?_

_He obviously had a heart-look at how he treated Mei, Belle, Natalia and Mona…_

…_Was he really that worthless to others…?_

_H-He had worth, dammit!_

_DAMMIT, HE DID!_

_He was AWESOME, AMAZING…_

_He was…He was…_

"_R-Roderich…Please, I just…"_

_"Hmph."_

_He was…_

"_RODERICH!"_

"…_What?" The apparition of the rich male had turned, his back facing Gilbert's, but at the scream, he turned once again, face-to-face with the albino._

"_P-Please…Please…I…" Why would the words not come out…? He could only stutter and stretch out a hand, asking a silent plea of, and for, attention…_

"…_Hah." Heels of shined shoes clicked on a floor that let out watery ripples as Roderich stepped closer, and he could only smirk evilly, "You're worthless."_

_The hand was smacked, the sound ringing out like a death knell, and Gilbert found himself falling backwards, unable to breathe…_

_Unable to breathe…_

_Help…_

_Help…_

_Unable to scream the words he wanted to…_

_HELP…_

_HELP!_

_Everything flashed past his eyes…_

_And it ended with the vision of Roderich staring down at him, with his fiancée on his arm; there was an unreadable expression in his violet eyes…was it hatred? Malice?_

…_Either way, there was a part of Gilbert's dream that he missed…That when he awoke in a cold sweat, nearly letting out a scream and a sob, he failed to recall…_

…_There had been a tear falling from Roderich's left eye…_

…_And no one had reached out to brush it away…_

* * *

A/N: And there is chapter seven everyone! I thank you all again for your patience. I'll be working on chapter eight's editing, and that'll be posted soon! Much love to you all!


	8. Elizaveta

A/N: Here is chapter eight, my lovelies! Fully edited and reading for your reading pleasure. I still have to write number nine, and I'll probably do a Savior chapter next, or write it as well, so more updates are coming soon!

Thanks for waiting, enjoy!

Song Inspiration:

"Romeo x Juliet Theme-You Raise Me Up (Inori)"

"Running Scared" by Eldar and Nigar

"Heroes and Thieves" by Vanessa Carlton

* * *

8

Elizaveta

* * *

_You have learned something. That always feels at first as if you had lost something._

_- H.G. Wells_

* * *

He had awoken at fifteen minutes past five A.M, the sun just beginning to stain the horizon yellow, while sprinkles of violet and maroon and navy dotted about, hanging on for dear life as their mortal enemy came forth. Gilbert, deciding that going back to sleep could prove fatal to what remained of his psyche, slowly got up from his bed, opening the 'bedroom' door slowly.

Mona and Natalia still slumbered; the elder on her stomach, glasses on the floor. The Belarusian on her back, breathing so slowly one could have mistaken her for dead.

Tip-toeing, the Beilschmidt ascended the stairs; the maids truly did not start work until six or seven, depending on what was occurring, work-wise, for that day; and here now, they were not awake, no one was.

Maybe that was a good thing—he could start on his work early, maybe rest later…? Would they allow him to do so?

Quickly, he glanced at himself in the mirror, and Gilbert heard himself sighing; bags, dark bags, clashed with the brilliant red hue of his eyes; hair was more frizzy and frazzled than normal, and the Prussian could only shake his head. When would he actually get decent sleep? His nightmares did not happen in an extreme amount, not too often, but…

But enough to cause him to look deplorable when they did…

So the dusting he had failed to do yesterday was done before others would mingle about; Gilbert avoided glancing at familial portraits, of Roderich, his parents, their friends and family, and of…_her_.

He was unsure why he cared so much about this Héderváry woman; not like he was attracted to her or anything, no way!

…Was it because she was marrying Roderich?

But again, why did he care? What did he care what that priss did? Even if he was not in love (Gilbert was still convinced of this!) why did it matter to him?

Slowly, he finished with the one task, moving on to fully open the thick curtains that embraced the windows that overlooked the front yard; out there was a world that glittered like gold, and all the white-haired male could do was sit upon the bay window, and press his hand to the glass, letting out a soft sigh. It looked so lovely, with the sun shining over the magnificent lawn, the dirt path and forest up ahead on the right side of the road. It was so close, but so far, and he knew that he was actually not free—being put into servitude had changed that. Whereas one would think he was more free now (He was earning money! Living in a lavish place, with delicacies!), it was in fact the opposite. He would never escape Roderich's mastering of his body unless he either earned enough money to scream aloud that he quit, or was fired.

"_You're worthless."_

The albino visibly winced, hanging his head slightly, reminding himself mutely that it had been a dream. Roderich had never…outright said that. His actions, yes, might have shown that, but…But…

"…I'm not worthless…"

Maybe Roderich did not think it at all; did Gilbert himself think it? Thereby, putting it in the Dream Roderich's mouth?

The pessimism and nightmares did not disperse as the morning wore on; at breakfast with the maids, the twenty-three year old barely spoke a word, and Mona exchanged glances with Belle, while Mei sweetly asked Gilbert if he wanted more sausage or eggs, or bites of light pastries.

"But Mister Gilbert, you…you have barely eaten-"

"I am just…not feeling well, today, Mei. Sorry." He stood up from the table then, "I'll be…uh…"

"You should go polish the dining room table. Tonight is the dinner for Master Roderich and Miss Elizaveta, as I am sure you remember?" Mona questioned, giving Gilbert a 'You better have' type of look.

"…Right."

So here he was now, it nearly eleven o' clock in the morning, a rag and polish gliding over the dark cherry oak surface; he would have to polish the matching chairs as well, and make sure the sliver was sparkling…

…He did not want to be told he did a horrible job, not today…

…Not after being called…called…

"You are moving quite slow today."

Slowly, Gilbert lifted his head, coming face to face with the Edelstein boy, his brows furrowed, hands behind his back as he stared at the albino bent over the table.

"…'m fine."

"…" A sigh, and Roderich stepped closer, coming up to Gilbert's side; without warning, he put one hand on his upper arm, pulling the younger, but taller, male closer, while his other hand came up to touch the Beilschmidt's forehead.

Gilbert gasped nearly inaudibly, eyes widening—what was the stupid priss doing?

"…You do not feel warm; you are not sick, by any chance, are you? I cannot afford to have you sick now, so shortly after I hired you, and not today of all days-"

"Stop blabbering, I'm fine…" Gilbert muttered while looking away, huffing softly.

"…No. No, you are not." Roderich firmly rebutted, "What is it?"

"It's nothing. I just…did not sleep well last night, that's all."

"Did you sleep at all?" Brunette brows deepened in unhappiness, and Roderich noticed, in the back of his mind, that he had not removed his hand from Gilbert's upper arm.

"YES! It is not a big deal, I just did not-"

Gilbert was cut off when a hand came upon his chin, lightly tugging it; eyes came in contact with one another, stern violet eyes gazing quizzically and critically into ruby ones, and Roderich could be heard letting out a huffy breath through his nose,

"…Something is wrong with you. What is it? Mona told me you have barely spoken ten words all day, and by this time, I can say after knowing you over a few days, you usually have spoken one-thousand."

"Maybe I do not want to talk about it, have you thought of that?"

"And maybe you should," Roderich insisted, "I do not want a servant who just…carries baggage-"

"It's not _baggage_, alright?" Gilbert retaliated with, in a louder tone, "I just did not get…good sleep, it's nothing! It isn't worth-"

_"You're worthless."_

…He froze, looking away, while Roderich only continued to gaze at him. If anything, the violet-wearing male stepped closer, murmuring,

"…What, you idiot? It isn't worth…what?"

A gruff huff, "It is not worth worrying about. Especially for _you_; why are you worrying, why do you _care_?

"…"

The Edelstein boy did not speak a word, and merely moved one step back, his hand resting on Gilbert's arm still, but more loosely; he let out a sigh, shaking his head,

"Is it wrong for me to…inquire about your health? Especially with a guest coming into the house this afternoon?"

"…So you're only asking because of your fiancée? To make sure her mood does not get bad because mine is?"

Roderich's eyes widen, and he finally removed his hand, "A-Ah…W-Well…"

Of course, that was not the reason; he was making excuses, and although many would say they are horrible, Gilbert apparently did not see through it; he was instead accusing him, asking him silently with a steely, 'Is that all? Is that the only reason?'

_No it is not all…_

The brunette was unsure as to the entirety of his reasons for worrying about the Beilschmidt; but after hearing that he had said little all morning, and looked upset, his heart had been filled with the urge to look further into the matter. And here was the albino, with dark eyes and worried gazes and sleepy tones of voice…

"…Don't worry. I will not go near her at all, so I won't…oh, ruin the mood of the party or whatever you want-"

"Gilbert…" Roderich started at his own voice, a hand flying up to his mouth; had he just called the other such an…informal title? His informal first name? It shocked the man spoken to as well, who blinked in confusion.

"Y-You should rest…Perhaps…" The twenty-seven year old felt his face heat up in embarrassment, taking another step back, "I-I mean…If you did not sleep well, your work…will…will be hindered…"

Oh, why did Gilbert have to stare at him like that? His eyes were sparkling with some unknown confusion and it did nothing to help make the flush on Roderich's face disappear, and Roderich felt himself shiver, hoping it did not show.

"A-And well…Well…"

"…I'll be fine." Gilbert's tone was softer now, and the smile on his face was not one of malice, but one of…actual kindness, with a touch of wryness underneath the surface, "You worry too much, Specs."

"…" Roderich did not reply, merely gazing away with a sigh, hands folded in front of his body while the albino went back to polishing the table; silently while gazing downward, the shorter male eyed Gilbert's working procedures, and was surprised to find that the male was…doing a good job. He seemed to know how to polish the table (In slow, easy circles), and how much liquid to use on it.

"…You certainly know how to polish a table." The rich child found himself internally squirming at how awkward and lame the statement had sounded; and then found himself wondering why he cared so much about that!

"I watched my mother do it when she was alive. S'how I know how to do all of the stuff you gave me. Well, kind of. I've made mistakes."

"Indeed…" Roderich showed a bit of a smirk, while letting out a tiny sigh, "You…do well. For a street urchin." And the laugh that followed was not completely degrading, and Gilbert could only roll his eyes, murmuring,

"And I guess I have met…worse rich boys. Most do not ask about my health, you know."

"Your health is important to me-" Roderich stopped himself, taking in a shaky breath, "I-I mean…You are under my employment, any master would…would…"

He cared…

He honestly cared…

Probably cared more than he should, Roderich realized…Way too much; he cared almost…like a friend would.

But he hated this man.

He was rude, crass, egotistical, a blatant opposite of what society demanded in its persons…

…So no. There was…There was…

…There was caring, there were kind emotions, _but_..

…But…

…What…?

"…You do not have to explain yourself if you don't…want to." Gilbert finally replied, and Roderich could only nod at the statement, stepping back further.

"…I am…" He had to get his act together! Why was he blushing like a silly, frivolous maiden? The brunette cleared his throat, taking in a breath, "I am ordering you to rest once you are done with the most important jobs, understood?"

"But-"

"That is an order, Beilschmidt. I do not want…to find you collapsed on the floor due to a lack of sleep."

He had put on the mask of Dutiful Master once again, his mauve orbs sternly gazing upon the taller male's being; in all actuality, Roderich, after stating the hypothetical situation of finding his servant on the floor in a collapsed heap, pictured it in his imagination and felt his stomach do back-flips on the spot.

…_I care more than a regular Master would…_

Which was unusual for Roderich; he was careful with his emotions, being taught never to get too close for comfort, never to get to a point where he was intimate enough to where he could be backstabbed in the blink of an eye. His compassion only reached those he deemed worthy of it touching (Was that not a little high-and-mighty? He would dispel that claim if asked); his parents, his maids, and Elizaveta had only been those he thought of as being in that category…

…Until recently.

Oh, he had had male servants before. A gardener here, a butler here—all which he had gotten rid of; they were…just…so _male_. So domineering. He remembered one had eyed up Mona's elegant form, the dame having to resort to a slap on the bastard's cheek, and Roderich had thrown him out on his derriere an hour later.

And Gilbert was…_quite_ male. He had heard the maid's gossip over the past few hours and day; the albino could burp up his meals loudly, had tracked mud in on his boots, had spent enough time out in the barn that he smelled like a horse for some hours…

…But…

Was it because Gilbert had no one? He was like the maids in that aspect; his ears had been given the news that only his brother was alive, and far away, in a rich home (Gilbert did love to speak with the maids).

And his parents…

Roderich swallowed; to have one's family lost is an idea he…did not wish to dwell on. He would not lie, he was scared of death. The idea that one day he would be burying his parents in the cemetery was enough to make him visibly shiver, and, unfortunately, for him, Gilbert saw it.

"You okay? And fine, I will…I'll go to bed for awhile once the silver's polished, okay?"

"I-I'm fine…And good, you _will_."

"I will!" The Prussian let out a laugh, and Roderich subtly wondered why he felt his eyes widen just then, "Sheesh, you worry so much. No wonder you look so old and tired half the time!"

"…Well, if you did not give me cause to worry-"

"But you don't _have_ to worry," Gilbert interrupted, putting down the rag to turn and fully face the Austrian, "But you do anyway…"

"…You wish for me to explain myself?" Not that he _would_…

"Maybe. I dunno." A shrug, "Do you even know yourself?"

"…Just finish your work, _please_. And get some rest. I will need your help for the dinner with Elizaveta and I."

A pale eyebrow quirked, "Just you and her? Her parents are not coming?"

Roderich shook his head, "It is to be a private affair, between her and myself. We do this sort of get-together often, as you shall see in the coming months."

"…Right."

The Edelstein nodded, finally turning around and going towards the doorway; he paused in his movement, keeping his back to Gilbert as he spoke one last time,

"You…have done better than I thought you would. I believed you would make this entire situation into a joke."

"…Lots of it is a joke, I still think that. Like you yelling at me about me not knowing music-"

"Gilbert…" Roderich glanced over his shoulder, a part of his heart—no, his _whole_ heart—being squeezed at the mention of the previous fight, "I-"

"Save your words. They do not matter. I could go on and on and start arguments now, but what would the point be?"

"…Ah-"

"There would be no point," Gilbert continued with, finishing up with the table, moving around it slowly to get the last few spots, "You would just start yelling, I would yell back, Mei would hear and start crying, Natalia would run with a knife, and there would just be chaos. So I might as well not…" He ended his trailing off with a shrug, "I will rest later."

"…Alright."

Roderich stated softly, exiting the room, only to lean against the wall in the other room, the living room, head bumping against the white-washed wall, hair breezing out somewhat at the touch.

Like a spy, he scooted closer to the dark-oak doorway, glancing in carefully, watching the silver-haired male continue his work, moving still in a slow fashion, but it seemed sped up now, now that Roderich had called him out on it.

_What happened last night to him when he went to bed…?_

There was something…entrancing about the taller male's form as he worked, but the brunette could not admit it silently to himself or aloud; he could only stare with inquisitive eyes and an even more inquisitive mind as to why he was doing such a thing. A small sigh escaped his lips, and his thoughts had made a complete, confusing circle—he was back to wondering why he cared so much.

Was it really because Gilbert was alone? No, no…There had to be something else…

Was it because…Gilbert actually livened up the house? He made his girls laugh with feminine giggles of glee, and even made Roderich actually…happy for some verbal combat. Normally, everyone did agree with him, just agreed and acquiesced but the Beilschmidt…did not do that at all...no, far from it...

And what about the emotions that Gilbert inspired in his heart that had been so cold for years...?

Guilt—he was actually feeling guilty over his words from before, especially the music comment; he could still see the flare of anger in those ruby gems, the hurt, the anguish…And he did feel guilt about his early assessment of the Prussian; he was not a mutant, not a creature, none of that.

Embarrassment—Roderich found his lips and tongue tripping over words, his face alighting in red hues that he had never experienced before. Not even in front of the most beautiful women in London and York and Oxford had he stuttered like such a fool! It was as if he was back with a tutor, and became upset that he had answered wrongly to a question…

Confusion—Oh, that did not even need any description; that tied into the Guilt and Embarrassment; where did they come from? What did they mean? He was…He was less of a societal epitome of a gentleman than any male Roderich had ever met, and yet, here he was, stuttering and feeling bad and wanting to make sure he was in good health, and not sick, not upset, not…not…

_Not in the care of someone else, perhaps? Would you not feel a bit…jealous if it was Mona worrying of him? Or Mei? No, not 'would you not'…more like 'were you not'…_

For when he had spoken with the eldest maid, she had seemed concerned—and immediately, a flare of nothing but jealousy had risen in Roderich's heart. Why had he not noticed that there was something off with the Beilschmidt?

_Well, you had not truly SEEN him this morning, not until now…But is that an excuse?_

Roderich shook his head, clearing his mind of the thoughts and turmoil that had sprung up—but wait, there was one more emotion to label, yes…

Attraction…

His eyes were drawn to the curvature of Gilbert's back as he straightened; that shirt was extremely baggy upon his upper frame, but he could look upon the neck muscles clearly, if that was a plus of sorts. The way his arms and hands began to glide over the dining room chairs, polishing the wood on their frames with a type of delicateness that was uncharacteristically not Gilbert…

Roderich felt his knees shake a little, as he could not look away; eyes became lidded, light pink lips being nipped by sharp teeth.

_His eyes are truly magnificent..._

They were…He could not lie of it now. There was something about them that drew Roderich in; The Prussian's skin, where it had been pasty and disgusting in his first view, mainly due to their pale pallor, were now completely different in the Edelstein's eyes…

_…Look away, look away, you cannot stare…_

But he could not look elsewhere, no matter how much his brain screamed for him to do so; it was as if the world had melted away, the background being hazy, his mind in a daze.

There were tiny droplets of sweat on Gilbert's brow, a concentrating gaze and firm line of lips on his face, and Roderich worried more—why was he noticing such details?

It finally became too much for the aristocrat when Gilbert's back was to him; violet eyes trailed down the white-haired male's back on their own, soaking in details. He noticed how lanky Gilbert's legs were now, but not in an…ungainly way, or unhealthy way. They still seemed strong, muscular, but not predominant, like the other men Roderich had met over the years. He found himself actually…appreciating that.

He found himself appreciating Gilbert's form as a whole…especially that…well...

…His bum was not exactly…_atrocious_—

"AH!" Hands flew to a dainty mouth, Roderich found his body turning hot with a mysterious fire, and shivering lightly, mostly out of fear. He had thought…Oh dear, he had not just thought…

Panting lightly, Roderich struggled to both remain silent, and get in as much air as possible into his suddenly-deprived lungs; eyes fluttered, and he could only hang his head as his skin felt more sensitive, and still alive with a burning sensation that had no origin except…

_Gilbert…_

What was wrong with him? He had never...ever…

Was it because they had talked of homosexuality and the words could not leave his mind, thereby tricking his body into thinking that he thought Gilbert looked…Looked…

His throat felt as if it was closing, and he could not let go of his admiring images that had boiled and brewed in his brain over the past few days; he felt nauseous, yet on Cloud Nine, and Roderich wanted to scream in frustration.

_What is wrong with me…_

_What is wrong with me…_

_WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME…?_

Not here, not now…Maybe, in another realm, if he was a poor bloke and Gilbert was his neighbor, maybe…

Maybe…

_NO!_

With trembling lips, he tried to not imagine another pair on his own; he tried not to imagine strong, thin arms holding him, promising him that he did not need to marry a woman he failed to love, that it was alright to…think in another way. Gilbert certainly believed this sort of credo on a daily basis, apparently…

No, he could not, he would not, he…he…he…

Body still trembling with what he could only name as arousal and attraction, Roderich took another breath in, shaking his head; feet nearly ran to the music room, his solace for everything, everything holy and divine…

And minutes later…?

The household was filled with the sound of Chopin's Nocturnes, especially that of _F _Major_, Op. 15 No. 1._

It was anger, fiery anger…

Too bad Roderich did not know who he was angriest at…

Himself, Gilbert, or God…

* * *

Each male had spent the rest of the afternoon in their respective places; Roderich belted out song after song, hoping with each future note that the images and thoughts about Gilbert would go away, far away, and he would never think them again.

It was bad luck on his part when he, unfortunately, saw the taller male working out in the front yard, Roderich himself having taken up the violin in his possession to play it; sitting on the window sill, there had his eyes found and spotted Gilbert, who was sweeping the porch, Belle having given him puppy-eyes into doing the chore for her, and the Beilschmidt was a sucker for cute girls and their pleading.

There was a ratty old handkerchief in his silver hair, Mei giving it to him, and the instant Gilbert was in his eyes, Roderich found himself missing a note on the Sonata he had begun, and he cursed himself in a muted manner.

To make his luck even worse, the Prussian lifted his head, and caught the gaze of the brunette, who found himself nearly gripping the violin in a deadly manner to the instrument; face blushing in shame at all that had occurred, he quickly stood from the window seat, and left the room.

Roderich could let none of it go; all of the emotions were bubbling over, and he feared he would crack into a million pieces—and he figured it would be Gilbert he would do it in front of. He had never felt such…hatred and compassion of this level, and especially not at the same time, so his heart was a wreck in its ribcage, and for some moments, he would only sit at the piano bench, gazing at the ivory his father had worked so hard to make famous, and caress the keys with a tenderness…and possibly with a sense of regret?

He knew the maids had been spying; they were not the quietest women when they went into "gossiping-mode" as he called it secretly behind their backs; the Bonnefoy lass had brought him tea, and when he had only responded with a nod of thanks, she had probed his condition, but he breezed through the conversation. Typical lies had been stated: 'I'm fine', 'I'm just a tad tired', and 'Please just continue to work, I shall be fine soon enough'.

So now they spied from doorways, tilting their heads in confusion when the Edelstein boy merely spoke curtly, but kindly and almost too softly. But they could not suffer through the tension much longer, as the afternoon was drawing later and later, and soon enough, it was four o' clock.

At four thirty, Elizaveta was to arrive in a carriage for her evening meal with Roderich, and said male was dressed in white slacks in a snowy coat to match, and a white dress shirt underneath. Decorated with gold and violet trim and buttons, the brunette sighed as he combed out his hair into its normal shape and style; he truly was not in the mood for the event, not now, not after his realization that he was…attracted to Gilbert.

What did this make him? He thought women beautiful, but none had ever made him gone the route of heart-stopping pain and heat all around his body, including parts that…should not have even felt a single tingle at the figure of a man. So was he…like Gilbert? Attracted to only the same sex? Or was he…different? Unique? Would he find the Beilschmidt beautiful if he had been born a lovely woman? Was he attracted to Gilbert's _persona_? Was he attracted to the _person_ called Gilbert Beilschmidt?

All of the questions gave him such a headache, and Roderich let out a groan as he rubbed his temples, while gazing at himself in the mirror; why now? When it was only a few months until the arranged wedding…

"Wooo, you look fancy! Ahahaha!" A derisive laugh was let out, shocking Roderich from his daydreams; gazing in the mirror, he saw the platinum-blonde, snowy-haired male in the household leaning in the doorframe to his bedroom, smirking.

"Well, you must be feeling better, if you are willing to make jests at me, hm?" Roderich looked away, hiding the light twinge of red that came on his face at the image of his companion's leering face.

"Yeah! That little nap I took was great!" What Gilbert failed to tell his Master was the fact that the sleep had been dreamless for the majority of the time, making it a lovely reprieve from the sleep he had been getting.

…Of course, 'majority of the time' implied something the twenty-three year old did not long to think over, because…it involved another male.

"Well, that is good. And I am 'fancy' because of the dinner. Which, I hope, you have not forgotten?" Gathering his courage, Roderich turned to face the other male, giving him a returning smirk of teasing proportions.

"'Course not. The girls have been running around like crazy chickens all day, I'm sorta surprised I got any rest at all."

A tiny laugh, nothing outrageous, escaped Roderich's lips, "This is an important dinner, it cannot go awry."

"Yeah, yeah, I get'cha," Gilbert waved a hand dismissively, "I will not cause any trouble; I can imagine you would fire me if I did, heh."

"You imagined correctly." Roderich replied with, turning back to the mirror to straighten his collar, all the while thinking:

_I would not dare fire you…I would miss your presence and form…I will not hesitate to threaten you with it, though, do believe that…_

"…So, is there anything else I need to do?"

A dark-brown eyebrow quirked at the question, Roderich's voice echoing out in a semi-mocking and teasing tone, with great mirth, "_You_? Wishing to do more work and be _helpful_? My, my, are you sure you are not sick?"

The Prussian pouted, stepping closer, moving his body into the room, "Nyeh, haha, very funny, Master. I just want to make sure there is not any work left over that I will have to do later. And do I have to do anything during this…meal?"

"Not unless I call for you. I would recommend you stay in the kitchen, for that is usually what the ladies under my care do. But have you polished the silver?"

"Yes."

"Made sure the table cloth was clean?"

"Yep!"

"Cleaned the porch?"

"You saw me doing that…"

A pause, Roderich barely hiding the scowl and blush that appeared, "…R-Right. Well…you did not cook anything, right?"

"Nope, the girls would not even let me near the stove."

A snort, "Good, they are quite smart with that decision," and when Gilbert let out a "HEY!" Roderich responded further with, "Now, now, do you wish to burn the fish? Or the vegetables?"

"…No."

"Good." Finally satisfied with his collar (And believing his courage was high enough to where he could look Gilbert in the eye without feeling like a bowl of gelatin), he turned to face the other fully, eyes locking with one another.

"I still think this entire thing is bogus, you know."

"…And I still think you are quite an imbecile. Any more comments?"

Gilbert let out a little chuckle, stepping even closer to Roderich, and the richer male resisted the urge to step back—where would he step back to, though, anyway? The wall?

"Well…Give me a few hours, I am sure I could come up with something-"

"Thankfully for you, I will not make you think that hard, dear." A mocking smile, "Dear Lord knows it would hurt your head, and that you would fail to come up with anything anyway."

Another laugh, red orbs rolling in their sockets, and before he knew what was happening, the Edelstein found his chin gripped by the younger male, so his eyes were raised fully, staring into balls of fire that showed scoffing emotions, negative emotions of hate and disdain…But…was there something else?

"I really, really do not like you." Gilbert spat, smiling, and Roderich, his mind screaming the phrase, 'UNHAND ME YOU BARBARIAN!', could only reply with,

"And I truly abhor you. Now, I suggest you remove your hand from my face…"

"Or?"

_Or I will react with flames in my veins, and wonder what would occur if you…put your face closer to mine…  
_  
"Or I shall call for Natalia. Or, if Elizaveta has already arrived, I shall scream for her."

That idea seemed to capture Gilbert's attention, but he continued to smile devilishly, and he let out in his craggy and chainsaw-esque voice,

"Oi, really? C'mon, I'm just holding your chin."

"…S-Servants and Masters do not touch each other bodily." Dammit, he had stuttered, had he not?

"Mm…Sure." But his chin was let go, and Roderich found his skin weeping with…what? Emptiness?

"Thank you. Now, take your leave and go spend time with the maids. Elizaveta shall be here shortly, and I do not want-"

But Roderich, in his mind–blanking moment where his speech and berating was to be given, had failed to notice that he was alone in the room; he had not only been in his mind, thinking of the right words, he had been half-turned, to gaze out the window. Turning back, he noticed Gilbert had vacated his bedroom without a second thought or spoken word.

Eyes could only stare at the place where the twenty-three year old's feet had been, but he could not hold onto the thoughts long; especially not the thoughts revolving on how close Gilbert had been to his being, how they could have…

Ugh. He could not go there. Not at all.

He especially could not when Elizaveta's carriage pulled up at the doorway, her butler and favorite manservant Tino hopping out of the buggy, running to the door to knock, while he carried a stuff little bear in his hands; Tino was very young, barely past the age of fifteen, and yet he still held onto stuffed toys, like a bear and a cat he had left at home, like any normal child.

Her driver, Berwald, was stock-still, like a statue as he sat upon the driving seat, reins still in hand; it was known that he had a very protective attitude towards Tino, and would jokingly tell anyone, and I mean anyone, that the fifteen year old was his 'wife'. It would normally result in the Finnish boy running around the Héderváry household in tears, clinging to Elizaveta's dresses while Katyusha, the Hungarian mistress' maid, tried to reason with Berwald about his words.

Rumors had gotten even further along that the two boys, despite Berwald being nearly twenty-two in age, were sleeping in the same bed. But whether they were true or not remained to be seen, and Elizaveta seemed to not truly care what her servants did; they were, after all, not hurting her, or Roderich, or her parents, and as long as they kept it secretly, she could live her life. Besides, she was a sucker for romance—_any_ type of romance.

But what she did care about was smiling in front of Roderich and his girls as she entered the premises, the Edelstein kissing her hand while Mei and Tino spoke with one another,

"Lady Elizaveta was excited to come! Very much so!"

But the maids and men were shooed away after a few moments of inane chatter, Tino hopping into the carriage to speak with Berwald while waiting for their mistress to finish her meal; the maids retreated to the kitchen, where Gilbert already was, having not come out to greet the visitors, but no one ridiculed him for doing such.

"…You are looking…well, Roderich." Elizaveta smiled demurely as her fiancé led her to the dining room, speaking softly, "But not…extremely well."

"A-Ah…" Could she see his struggling?

"…There is something on your mind, I can tell." She continued with, as the Edelstein pulled out her chair, the plates of hot food having just been put on the table a few minutes earlier.

"W-Well…I…"

Green eyes bore into violet, "Roderich…I know this is stressing, this whole situation. You know I feel it too. I wish…" The Héderváry lass bent her head, so she could whisper in a conspiratorial manner, "I wish we could…change it as well."

"…" Roderich did not reply, and merely began to pick at his food, taking a few bites here or there while the woman across from the table stared at him, subconsciously straightening out her thick, green, satin dress, while not even gazing downward at the fabric.

"Roderich…Is there someone else?"

Amethyst eyes blinked, and the pianist nearly choked on a bite of fish that had entered his mouth; Elizaveta nearly let out a shout as the choking continued, but Roderich just shook his head, finally freeing himself of the intrusion.

"…W-What did you say?"

"Roderich…Have you met…someone else that you would rather be with?"

"Yes." He gasped at the quickness of his answer, and then shouted, "N-No! It is not that at all!"

Dear Lord, what had he just said? 'Yes'? _'YES'?_ Who would that person _be_!

She had asked him this before, in other moments of depression and silence, and he had merely murmured, 'No, dear Lizzy, there is no one'. But now…

_I said yes, and I said it quickly…Who did I mean…? There has been no change since she last asked, and that was three weeks ago. Who…What…_

…Well, there was one change…

"Roderich…" Elizaveta sighed, "If you have met another woman, I will not take offense! You know that! I…I would appreciate it, you know that. We already both stated we did not want this-"

"And I still do not want it."

The brunette woman nodded, "And neither do I. That is why, if you have met another woman of…high caliber, you should marry her! I am sure your parents would understand!"

"What about you?" He returned with, taking a bite of his fish, "Your parents will be ashamed."

"…" A sad sigh escaped the Hungarian's lips, "I know. But I cannot help what I feel. You know that…"

"…There is someone else for you, is there not?" Roderich probed, and was immediately hit with a flushing face belonging to the girl, who could merely nod.

"Who?"

"You do not know him." She whispered; they had been whispering the entire time, or speaking in soft tones that would not draw ears to attention; Roderich trusted his maids anyway—they were not the type to pry into his private affairs regarding the woman before him, yet he had never asked why…

"Tell me anyway."

"…H-He is…from the Ottoman Empire. An Arab man."

"…You love him, do you not?" His eyes had widened at the description, but he just questioned further.

A darker coat of red came onto the Héderváry's face, "…V-Very much so; we have been…seeing each other in private meetings. He is not greatly rich, not at all, but he has a good heart! A horrible temper, but a lovely heart!"

Silence, and then, "And?"

"And what?" Her shoulders sagged, "And that is that. There is nothing that can come of it."

"…You mean you have not thought of...running away-"

"Of course I have!" Elizaveta retaliated with, nearly screaming the exclamation, but managing to contain herself somewhat, so the statement was loud, but not obtrusive, "Of course I have thought of running away, of begging that…that this does not happen, but what can I do? Roderich, it will not matter if I wish to or not—they will not allow us; perhaps if…you had a female woman-"

"There is no woman, Elizaveta! And even if I had someone, it would do no good. And I could not just…marry some other woman while you ran off to the desert with some man, deserting your family. They would be ashamed!"

"…" The brunette female said no more, merely digging her nails into her lap, her face scrounged up in anger, "And then what, Roderich? You are expecting us to just…get married?"

"And you are not?"

"Not now! I was for years, and yes, a part of me still is, but can you really stand this, Roderich? Can you?" She was pleading; pleading for relief from the chains society had wound around her ankles and tiny wrists, the gag in her mouth, silencing her in a multitude. Only the Edelstein could possibly find a way to release her—and release himself along with her.

"Society has told me that I must, Elizaveta. That we both must-"

"And when are you ready to listen to yourself? Roderich, I might not be able to convince my parents that I do not wish for this, but I am at least able to convince myself to do what I wish. Yes, it is an illicit affair; yes, if I am found out, I shall be punished, perhaps banished from my family, but I do not care. I am listening to myself. I am telling myself I wish to be with him, and I am, despite the problems I could cause. "

Roderich let out a tired, low sigh, "And what do you wish for me to do, hm? I have not found someone else. It is not as if I can go up to my mother and say that I have found a rich maiden who wishes for me! That would be a lie!"

"And so you would rather lie to yourself? Because that is what you are doing!" The Hungarian woman accused, pointing a finger at her fiancé, begrudgingly of course, "You are sitting here, and are willing to let them direct our lives! While I am in love with a man! Can you not think of this at least from the point of view of _my_ happiness, Roderich?"

The Edelstein could not help but give the girl a glare, "Are you saying I am selfish?"

"I am calling you many things: cowardly, not social-"

"Not social?"

"Are you even trying to find someone else, Roderich? To actually listen to your heart!"

"Just because I have not found someone-"

But she interrupted his scathing reply, "You are just listening to what others have told you! You are…You are too absorbed with the world your parents have given you to even look outside your own personal hidey hole! THAT makes you not a social person!"

At that, the bespectacled male started; had Gilbert not stated such a thing just a little while ago? During their fight in Roderich's office?

"Elizaveta…" He knew he sometimes talked to her like a child; he talked to many people like they were children, with a condescending, disappointed tone. It did not to quell the woman's anger, who huffed loudly,

"Do not scold me. I would not have a problem if you found a woman whom you loved and wanted to…copulate with."

A pause the size of an iceberg, and then, "…What is his name?" He was jealous—not jealous of him, mind you; but of _her_…To have someone else that you truly loved...

"Sadiq. Sadiq Adnan."

"…Sounds like a very strong name." Strength. Something he apparently did not have; he did not have the willpower to stand up to his parents' ideas. He failed to have the strength to break free of the house and find someone else to spend his time with. And, he secretly whispered in the back of his brain, he did not have the strength to admit of his…attraction to…_him_.

"He is quite strong…" Elizaveta trailed off, biting into a tart on her plate, "Roderich, please, do not think I am angry with you. I just wish…"

"That what? I was not alone?"

"You are not alone! You have me-"

"As a sister."

"…Why, yes. But is that not better than nothing? And what of the girls? They are so sweet and kind."

The musician could only shrug, "I suppose."

They continued to eat, but in silence; Roderich staring down at his plate the majority of the time; the fish looking extremely unappetizing, the vegetables cold, the roll tasting stale; the tarts looking moldy in his biased vision; it was only when he called Mona in to take the plates away did they speak up again,

"How…are your parents, Elizaveta?"

"Oh? They are well…Quite well, thank you."

Such stupid chatter; when they were children, they had had no trouble speaking. But ever since Maria had screamed 'MARRIAGE!' did everything change…Now he could barely find the courage—COURAGE!—to talk to Elizaveta. Years and years ago, they had run around, freely, before she had been told by her parents it was time to be a 'proper lady' and Roderich had been told it was time to 'learn the ways of the gentlemen', but even then, after that, they had still talked quite freely. Gone about the town with still happy tones, searching for new things to speak on, new things to buy…

…Now all they did was sigh, talk of their oncoming matrimony with displeasure, or argue.

Sometimes, little sprinkles of joy came into their conversation; if Elizaveta had treated herself to sweets and brought spares for Roderich; if she had made a little orphan boy's day, things that were…good. She would make little sweet contributions to the dreary situation of their lives.

And Roderich? Pfft, Ha! He only played his piano in frustration, hid away in his office working, or snapped and argued with…Gilbert.

_Or you look at the bodies of…manservants…_

"Would you like tea?" Wanly, Roderich spoke up after a moment, "And dessert? I…baked a cake earlier." He had, during his bouts of musical therapy that had occurred after the escapade involving Gilbert's body.

"Of course." She let out a giggle, "You are quite the man, Roderich Edelstein."

"How do you figure that?" There it was! A spark of their old humor, how delightful!

"You play piano, bake cakes, and knit; you are going to attract not a woman, but a man, at this rate!"

Roderich huffed, fuming slightly at the remarks, "Oh, very funny. You have known I am all those things for years!"

"Of course!" The Héderváry woman grinned impishly, "But now I am beginning to realize that…it might deter you from finding a woman. Many are-"

"Attracted to men like your Sadiq?" He was smirking, and softly called into the kitchen for someone to bring tea, turning back to Elizaveta a moment later, "Well, maybe I will meet a woman who enjoys a more…quiet male partner."

"I would not say quiet, I would say effeminate!" She giggled righteously, and Roderich could only smirk and sigh; this was his Elizaveta. She naturally picked on him, and sometimes he could take it, like now, and others not. But it was a part of their relationship, and he would normally make a teasing rebuttal at the end.

And he was about to, here, but she spoke up with a start, saying,

"OH! Who are you?"

Confusion turned to action as Roderich turned his head, and came face-to-face with Gilbert Beilschmidt, in the doorway that lead to the kitchen, holding a silver tray with two china teacups and pot, while slices of chocolate cake decorated similar plates with blue paisley designs and white background.

"Uh…"

"Gilbert!" Roderich shouted, "W-What…What are you-?"

"Well, you called into the kitchen to bring tea, and I was the only one in there…"

"W-Where are Mona and Natalia? Belle? Mei?"

The silver-haired male only shrugged, "They all ran off to do other things. And they told me to stay in the kitchen."

"…" A cynical (And possibly right?) part of Roderich immediately screamed that a set-up had occurred; there was nothing else for the maids to do, unless they just wanted to "make themselves busy". What had they planned, with leaving Gilbert to pick up the charge of tea and treats?

"Roderich, who is this? Is he new?"

"Ah…This is…" Violet eyes dared not to look at the Beilschmidt, who was dressed in the fancier clothes Natalia had purchased: the red dress shirt and dark-black pants, the coat being the only thing missing, "T-This is…Gilbert Beilschmidt. My new servant."

"Ah…Well, it is nice to meet you." Elizaveta nodded at the male, who set the tray on the table; in turn, Gilbert smirked, winked and said,

"Nice to meet you, too, Sweet Gumdrop."

The woman frowned at the pet-name, and gave a huff as the albino poured the tea, "Well, you certainly…have charm, do you not?"

"Of course I do!" At that, Gilbert turned to Roderich, "Hey, she's prettier in person! I can see why you want to have se-"

"GILBERT!" Roderich shouted, his hands clenching, "Do not dare say any explicit nonsense in front of this woman!"

"Yeah, yeah," A hand waved in the air with dismissive nonchalance, and the servant turned back to the woman of the trio, "Hey, you know, if you ever…well...want to see what it is like to be with a Prussian-"

"_What?_"

"Oh, Good Gracious…" Roderich sighed, the palm of his left hand cupping his tired head, "Beilschmidt. Leave. NOW."

"Oh, come on, Roderich, have I not been a good boy today?"

"HA! GOOD? Most certainly not, you satanically-born spawn!"

"And you are just cut from the womb of God himself, are you?"

The witty banter started up in a fiery passion, and the green-eyed girl could only stare, as if she was watching some sort sports match; fingers came up to her lips in shock as Roderich's face turned red with rage, eyes alight with a passion that she was all too familiar with…

_Oh my Lord…He…He HAS met someone…_

She knew the look in Roderich's eyes—she had had it herself when she and Sadiq had first met; they had argued—a lot. The brown-haired woman could be a fighter when she wanted to be, and Sadiq could scream for hours on end. Violent slaps and pushes and even frying pans were made into weaponry during those early days. She had thought she had never met a more disgusting, dirt-filled individual in all her life…

But it had been during a screaming match—Sadiq apparently having thrown away a necklace Elizaveta had, and had flirted with another woman right in front of her—did they both realize they had been such fools. It had been such a crash of emotion, such a realization of how much compassion that they had had for one another, that Elizaveta had broken into tears, and the Adnan male could only stutter out words, begging her not to cry, while he held her close. He himself had felt wet eyes in his head, and explained with regret that the necklace had been a mistake, and the woman had been an act of childishness—he had only wanted to make Elizaveta pine for him, for he had already been doing so for her.

…She knew Roderich was in over his head the moment she had seen the fight begun.

"Can you just leave now?"

"Are you going to physically throw me out?" Gilbert goaded and Roderich only barked,

"If it is deemed necessary! I may not be the strongest man in the world, but I can certainly lift you over my shoulder and throw you out the nearest window!" It was an empty threat, and all three present knew it, but the brunette male shouted it anyway.

"Oh, I would like to see you try~!"

Roderich audibly growled, and turned towards Elizaveta with a pleading face, "Please, excuse his behavior. He is quite…incapable of controlling his stupidity."

"Ah…N-No, I am fine…" In all honesty, she was planning, scheming and plotting; she needed to see more of Roderich's…true emotions when it came to this strange and rude male. She had always figured, in the back of her mind, that Roderich was more female than male, so this…could make sense…

"Hey, I can control lots of things!"

"No, you cannot, you idiot!" They were now standing at the side of the table, having moved in the squabble, and Elizaveta realized how lucky she was—Gilbert was nearer to her than Roderich was, she could almost reach out and touch him!

"Idiot? IDIOT?"

"Ignorant idiot, that is what you are! Quite so!"

"At least I am not an impotent idiot-AGH!"

He could not finish the statement, for a crash was unleashed in the kitchen, and Gilbert tumbled to the floor as one of the china plates—Elizaveta's china plate, still filled with half a piece of cake—hit him over the head.

"GILBERT!" Roderich's face was picture-perfect shock and icy terror, and he, without thinking, scrambled to the floor beside his servant, "Gilbert, are you alright?"

"Agh! What…? NO! Your crazy wife just hit me with a plate!"

Both men turned, both of them grasping Gilbert's head—Roderich would recall the closeness later and turn the hue of a Spanish tomato—to eye Elizaveta, who stood and innocently shrugged her shoulders,

"It…slipped from my hand?"

It was the biggest lie in the world, and Roderich shouted, "ELIZAVETA! That was uncalled for, what were you thinking?"

"W-Well…I…" What had she been thinking? That was simple: she had wanted to see Roderich's reactions to the fact that his servant was in danger, or had been harmed. A truly caring individual would not shirk away from the instance of the person they…loved being harmed, and her hypothesis turned true. Roderich was crouching beside Gilbert, helping him sit up, trying to wave the chocolate cake crumbs out of the white hair, along with the pieces of plate that had hit and buried themselves in the locks, too.

"Gilbert, you idiot, are you alright?" Already, the aristocrat's attention was turned toward the albino, not the woman standing near them; it was obvious—painfully obvious, in Lizzy's mind—that he was trying to hide his worry and trepidation. Thankfully, Gilbert was either too out of it, or too stupid to notice—possibly both statements were true—but it was clear enough for the Hungarian to notice.

It had worked perfectly—she knew the truth now, even if Roderich himself did not.

"Oh, I am so, so sorry!" She feigned regret, even though if someone held a knife to her womanly throat, she would fail to regret it then!

But neither of the males paid her any heed whatsoever, now; they were grumbling at one another instead,

"You moron, did your parents ever teach you any self-control? Hold still, there is a piece of the plate-"

"OH! OW, Hey, be careful! It scratched me! And yes, my parents taught me that; did yours teach you any idea on how to attract a sane woman?"

"She did the right thing, in my eyes!"

"Oh, then why were you so upset a minute ago?"

When Roderich flushed red, and started to sputter inane syllables that had no meaning, Elizaveta took it as her cue to leave, and she silently and slyly slipped out of the dining room, making her way to the front door without being noticed; the maids were off who-knows-where; they certainly were not interfering with the boys in the kitchen, that was the honest truth.

So without a word, Elizaveta closed the door behind her, hopping down the porch steps with a gaiety that she had not held in a long time; she did not know where they could and would go from here, and she knew the Edelstein was still an oblivious moron, and it seemed his new servant was just as bad.

"AH? Milady!" That was Tino, peeping his head out of the window in shock, "Y-Y-You are early, what has happened?"

"We are leaving early, but have no fear; everything is fine."

She figured Roderich would berate her later for the attack on the silver-haired male; most likely he would be fuming and lecturing for hours on end, and she would daydream while he did so—she had done so before.

Tino and Berwald asked nothing further, merely getting into their proper positions, the Swedish male clicking his teeth and urging the horses on while Tino kept his Mistress company, sitting across from the Héderváry woman while she herself took out a fan of feathers to fan her timid and feminine face.

_What an interesting…situation…_

Everyone knew it was illegal; she of course was a secret protector of any form of love, mainly because of the young male sitting across from her. She knew the Finnish boy had a soft spot for Berwald; whether it was true love or a temporary romance was unknown, but she knew that they would always have love for one another, and was that so wrong?

_Oh Roderich, you have no idea what you have initiated, do you…?_

He was in deep—it was so obvious, it was painful; but was more painful was the fact that he really had no clue. He could go on shouting that he hated this man called Gilbert, that he was the scum of the Earth, but there was a fire in the violet eyes that was the exact opposite of hate.

_He is in a state of romance…And at this rate…He…_

_He will know he is in love…_

Was it how Austen proclaimed life to be? That the most hated people could realize that there was love between them?

She knew what it was; it was cute, in a way—Roderich finding a form of kinship between someone who was not just in another class of society, but in the same sex…But really, was Elizaveta surprised? Ha, hardly! Roderich had always been…different than most men. He seemed to hate other men—was that because he did not wish to acknowledge the fact that he could have an attraction for them?

_Then again, if that servant was a maid…_

It had to be Gilbert—she had never seen him react to another person like this before, be it male or female. He had screamed in agony when Gilbert had crumpled to the floor at Elizaveta's attack! Who else would do that, other than a man in deep romantic inclinations?

Oh, and she had seen the way he had avoided looking at the Beilschmidt's fit form. That had been even more obvious—had encounters already happened between them? Had Roderich realize he was…finding that body more desirable than anything else?

Oh, it was like a classic romantic fairytale! Like the ones mothers read to their children about maids and servants who find their Prince Charming at the glorious ball, just before midnight strikes!

…But this fairytale was…different…

_Oh Roderich, what are you going to do?_

Would he ignore the feelings in his heart? And did he have any choice otherwise? Elizaveta wanted him to be happy; she wanted to run away with Sadiq, but she could not, if it meant Roderich would be punished for it, or left alone.

…Now there was Gilbert, but…

_I doubt he will do anything…Unless he fully accepts that he is in love with another man…And then what? What can he do? He…He is a coward…_

The brown-locked lass had to admit it: her forced fiancé was a coward. Even if his feelings for Gilbert grew, even if he admitted the attraction and the compassion, what then? He would not call off the marriage; he would state that it was needed for their families' sake—for society's sake.

_He will give up his own heart for…the rest of us…_

But what if…? No, he would not. He would not give it all up to spend time with someone who was not going to help his parents or the Héderváry's mother and father. She could not picture Roderich slipping away in the dead of night with Gilbert by his side, buying two secret train tickets or slipping into the cargo hold of a ship that would take them both far, far away…

…Or would he?

A despondent sigh escaped Lizzy's lips, and she set back further; perhaps…she could…

"Tino, may I ask you something?"

"Hm? Of course, Mistress."

"…If…If you and Berwald were…" She cleared her throat out of nervousness, while Tino started to blush, "Were unable to…be together, what would you do?"

"H-Hypothetically, miss?" The Finnish child stuttered, fidgeting out of nervousness, "W-Well, I suppose…We would find a place where we could be together…"

"And what if…Berwald was richer than you? Or you were richer than him?"

Confusion came onto Tino's face, "You mean…if he was a noble and I was not, but we still loved each other?"

"Yes, that is exactly what I mean. What would you do then?"

A shrug came from the fifteen year old, "Why, if we loved each other enough, I suppose we would find a way to work it out. Berwald…r-r-really cares for me, so..So I suppose we would leave whatever we have to behind."

"…I see, thank you for your insight…"

_Oh Roderich, will you be able to sacrifice everything…? You may have to, if you wish to be really happy…_

It was a twisted game of Russian Roulette, just without the Russians. The gun was loaded, and Roderich would either have to point it at his own heart, the heart of society, or Gilbert's—there were only so many options, and so many choices, and he would have to choose eventually.

Most likely, his emotions would boil over before then; he would be hit with hard realizations, and…well…She only half-wanted to imagine the rest…

But there was little she could do; the European lass could only glance out her window as the Edelstein estate got farther and farther away, as did any shouts or noise that came from it.

_Roderich, dear, I hope you make the right decision…_

That really was all she could do, right? Perhaps she could think of future plans, like she did tonight, but...

Hoping was all she could do...

Hope was the only thing, right?

…It seemed to be the only thing sustaining her right now…

The only thing at all…

* * *

A/N: If it isn't obvious, if I have to have Hungary in a hetero pairing, I go for Turkey x Hungary (Evil smirk inserted here)!

Next chapter will be coming soon-Expect another heated argument between the boys, some slapping, and a revelation that changes the story...Well, make that a few revelations, hah!

Until then, take care all!


	9. Symphonic Harmony

A/N: And we're back everyone! Very long chapter ahead for you all :) I hope you really enjoy it, it's one of my favorites yet. And as I sit here re-reading Harry Potter, I could not help but find the perfect quote from a favorite character of mine, which is happily sitting at the end of this chapter.

Please enjoy, reviews are lovely, and a lot more love is to come next time!

**Song Inspiration**:

- "Glitter in the Air", by P!NK

- "You are the One" by Shiny Toy Guns

- "Breathe Again", by Sara Bareilles

- "Meet Virginia", by Train

- "Humans" by The Killers

- "Transcendence" by In Tenebris

- "Again", by Flyleaf

- "Missing", by Flyleaf

- "Broken", by Seether (Featuring Amy Lee)

- "Nothing Left to Lose" by Matt Kearney

- "Breaking the Habit", by Linkin Park

* * *

9

Symphonic Harmony

* * *

_A man's most open actions have a secret side to them._

_- Joseph Conrad_

* * *

The rest of the week was, to everyone else's surprise, demure and quiet; each person went about their work with determination to get it done, with the littlest struggle possible.

Of course, they fought—Gilbert could never seem to keep his nose out of trouble, especially when Roderich was involved. And the Edelstein could not keep himself away from the arguments, even if his better judgment told him to do so.

He admitted, silently, between the covers and sheets of his satin-covered bed, with its canopy made of the prettiest violet fabric, the sheets matching with a softer hue, that he was addicted to the fights; Roderich had realized that days ago, during the silent moments when he was actually…well, bored.

He had become a slave to the non-boredom; to the feelings of fire in his veins that came with the verbal combat; each argument was a miniature war, and although Roderich had always shirked away from wars (Just ask his history tutor years ago), he found himself…enjoying the "banter battles" that the albino just magically sucked him into.

And yes, he was still feeling…_it_. Attraction. Arousal. Desire. The brunette sometime awoke in the middle of the moonlit night in a dank sweat, clutching the sheets, and finding his body was reacting in the most sinful ways possible. He usually could not fall back into a dreamless state of sleep then, and spent some hours smoking in privacy, or trying to write a composition for his piano, or reviewing business paperwork, and hardly daring to touch his most intimate parts-unless he became truly desperate for release. He tried to hide his tired eyes with more work, locking his body up in the office the next morning, but for how long could the charade be kept up?

Some nights, he was better—no Gilbert haunted his sleep, no…fantasies (_FANTASIES!_) haunted his body and his sexuality was not challenged. There was success in those dreams, power and fame, and happiness-…

Oh, who was he kidding? Those dreams with Gilbert were marvelous, even if they tortured his psyche…Those soft lips doing things, saying things they should not be saying…That body holding him, and was _in_ him…Who knew homosexual sex could look so _promising_…?

He should fire him.

He could fire him.

…That did not mean he would.

What would no Gilbert mean? A life of boredom once again? Where his only companions were…maids and his parents? Was he truly so attached to his parents that there was no one else save for his servants for company? But…Gilbert was different…Was he not? There was an attachment there, but it was not the daily one he had gained with Mona and her surrogate sisters. It was…different.

So he would scream, he would threaten—oh, and he could count those threats…

"YOU THREW AWAY _WHAT?_I SHOULD FIRE YOU!"

"HOW DARE YOU FORGET TO GIVE SOFIE HER OATS! I SHALL FIRE YOU THIS INSTANT!"

"YOU SPILLED MY _TEA_ ON MY _CARPET?_ GILBERT BEILSCHMIDT, PACK YOUR BAGS NOW!"

Each time, though…Nothing happened, and the albino knew that. Which was why he never "packed his bags" and belongings were never stored. He just stood up from his mistake, brushed off his dark slacks, and went back to work. Which, in all honesty, Roderich could not argue against. At least the boy was trying, yes? And although some days there was mistake after mistake, accident after accident, Gilbert was…overall not too horrible. And that was another reason he could not fire him.

But there were still many mysterious around the twenty-three year old. They had never resolved the fight in the brunette's office, considering Gilbert's taste in music and religion. Did the boy know some…sort of hidden talent that Roderich had not uncovered yet? The mysterious idea of hidden sides to the Beilschmidt ignited a spark of curiosity in the older male, and he could not help but want to know them—all of them. All of Gilbert's sides and ideas and different versions of himself.

He knew that there was a past Gilbert wished not to speak of…His parents were dead, that alone was enough to make Roderich's heart squeeze. Why were they dead? And for how long? A disheartening image would flood his brain: An orphaned Gilbert standing in the streets of London, holding his younger brother's body close and Roderich would go on even further depressing tangents. What if he had passed such an image before, when he had ridden through the large city in Britain? What if he had mocked a little orphan Gilbert? Or at least someone like him? He had always been taught that…those below were, well, below.

Gilbert was, of course, changing that, slowly but surely. He certainly did not hate the other—although at some points, Roderich wondered how much the other hated him. The Prussian never truly hid malice during their fights, even though Roderich could try. Of course, eventually, they both failed at hiding it during a fight, and would escalate to extreme heights.

It made him sigh in the most depressing manner; did the silver-haired male hate him? And how much? And what such distracting thoughts these were! He was supposed to be working, planning a wedding (_UGH!_), and…and…

"Ahahahah!"

Oh, he was laughing again…Did the (_adorable_) moron have to laugh so much…?

Sometimes he just laughed at…nothing. Other times he laughed at Roderich's embarrassment, but that was just normalcy for the albino male. And it became a form of normalcy towards the Edelstein as well; he loathed it, he would rather Gilbert just…be quieter and respect him, but…

…But then he would not be Gilbert, would he?

"Unique, damn bastard…" Roderich huffed while standing in front of his desk, leaning against the sturdy wooden body of it; he resisted the urge to reach for brandy or a cigarette, and merely let a breath out through his nose; it was early afternoon, and the majority of his work had already been completed. The new toy train design was approved by his careful violet eyes, the finances for the month, so far, seemed in working order, and he had had a small bite to eat from a water-crest sandwich…He supposed he could take a break.

Of course, he was not taking a break to go…look for the Beilschmidt. No. That was a stupid idea.

…So when he just happened to wander the house, making sure each of the rooms was in a state of perfection, Roderich did not feel a twinge of absolute disappointment when he failed to find the male on the upper floors.

Hmph. Who was he, really? He was acting like a foolish maiden, searching for her Mister Darcy…

Roderich pouted in an undignified fashion (Thank the Stars he was alone), leaning against the wall outside his bedroom, having traversed the entire top floors, and yet the silver-haired male was not in any single one of them; the maids themselves were, of course, and they were spread throughout the house: Belle cleaning up the small bathroom, Mona fixing Roderich's bed, Natalia dusting the small library, and Mei working out in the garden. The only tiny relief Roderich managed was the fact that it was Mona in his bedroom, and not Gilbert. He was unsure how he would react if the other had been in there…

But then where was the moron? He could not have snuck off to…do some vandalizing, yes? Perhaps the barn? Gilbert had become quite fond of that little old barn, and Amadeus, and Sofie, somewhat. Sometimes Roderich would overhear the servant talking to the maids about how one day he would plan to ride the white stallion, and that he would gather up enough courage to do so as the weeks went by. Of course, the brunette had his doubts, but he admired the other's enthusiasm; and who knew? Gilbert was…special. Maybe he could do it…

_Maybe he can do anything, really…_

A wry smile came onto the pianist's face at the thought; half the time he was an optimist, the other half, a pessimist. When it came to Gilbert, he was more of the former, and that was humorous, quite humorous.

He should not be searching for him, anyway; so he was a bit bored now, and searched out gratification? There was no use looking for the taller man, because…they usually found one another eventually.

So Roderich descended the stairs slowly, but once he was half-way down, he paused.

…What was that sound?

It was a marvelous note of music, and the instant it reached his ears, dark brows frowned in confusion; music? Was it from his music room? No one else was allowed in there to play, except for his parents, but they were not visiting today…

Quickly, in his black dress shoes, Roderich descended the rest of the way, moving with grace and speed, hoping not to disturb whoever was playing…the notes grew louder and louder, continuing on and on, as if the person playing the instrument, which he deigned to be his violin, had been unsure at first, but was now fully engorged in the rhythm that he had no choice but to carry on.

Cautiously, the violet-eyed man strode up to the door to his music room, light filtering in with the ease of a ghost; Roderich crouched low, not worrying that his royal blue dress shirt would become wrinkled…he was too obsessed with seeing who was playing to truly care.

For the music was…engrossing. It was neither the firm stomping beats of his father, nor the soft, gentle lullabies of his mother. It was a rhythm he had never heard before, even though the song's name was automatic in his mind: Bach's _Chaconne_.

And once he realized who it was who had picked up the violin and had begun to play, without a score in front of him, Roderich felt his jaw dropping in utter shock, his body heating up in flushing embarrassment, and his heart pounded as a harmony echoed out…

* * *

He was being stupid—Gilbert knew that. But was this new? Hardly. He knew when he was being stupid a lot, for he was stupid a lot.

But as the servant had stood in the doorway to the music room minutes ago, he knew he could contain the urges no longer. It was forbidden to touch any instrument in the room, though; Roderich had specifically stated thus. And stated it with fiery wrath, too!

But there it was, glistening, gleaming, calling Gilbert's name-Roderich's violin: His proudly-taken-care-of Stradivarius, a gift given to Roderich and his father by the Stradivari family themselves. The wood was polished to perfection, the strings and bow touched so lightly, it was as if they were made from the wings of Seraphim, and were fragile to an extreme degree.

The Edelstein had left the violin out, to put it on display this day, and Gilbert could resist the draw of the music no longer. Yes, there was the Edelstein-made Viola. And their trademark cello, and even another violin in the house made by their company. Along with Roderich's piano, they had a small lute and an even smaller harp and a guitar section in the household as well.

But the violin…this…_this_ was Gilbert's true calling, his preferred instrument. And he could resist the urge to play it no longer! Not after it had been years without his long lost friend...

Gingerly, the albino took up the instrument, tuning it with the utmost care, making sure no eyes were watching his movements; there was not a soul around that could intrude upon him, the maids being out and about, and out and in town, and who cared where Roderich was?

"…Okay…Just…Just like before…" He had to whisper to himself to calm his nerves, his tingling-with-excitement nerves. His chin fit perfectly on the holder, and Gilbert heard himself sighing, too numb with excitement to actually feel it.

_Three…Two…_

…_One…_

No more waiting…He let the first note rip through the air with a crash, and he could almost see the sound waves as they echoed out; as the magic returned in his veins and to his fingertips.

_Go…_

The room melted like rich ice, or rich cream; everything exploded as his fingers moved on remembrance alone; his eyes stared at nothing, for in his mind he traced his memory back to the old note sheets he had studied for days on end, until his father had commanded that he played without it.

What would have taken professional violinists years to learn by heart was learned by the Beilschmidt in days—that was one of his secrets.

A secret that he was a _prodigy_ hidden in the rough…

Even after years of being on ice, the music came back; had it just been sleeping in his memory this entire time?

_One two three, one two three, one two three…_

Remember the rhythms, the pitch, the tempo, that is what he told himself; turn the bow this way, now that way, now a long pause, now let it scream! Let the notes scream out, praising themselves and the world, and their creator!

Ruby eyes closed, and Gilbert's teeth gently bit his lip; he could not stop playing now, not even if he was caught—_they_ would have to let _him_ finish _his_ song.

Well, his "borrowed" song—Frederich has always stated that when a musician played a song or a piece composed by another, they were merely borrowing its glory, and Gilbert firmly believed that even now.

But here, just for a few moments, the albino "owned" this _Chaconne_; Bach, were you listening from the Other Side? Did you see him playing in the middle of this glorious home, relying on memory alone?

There were fireworks dancing behind Gilbert's eyelids—the same ones he remembered seeing when he was still an adolescent. They had never died…

If anything…

They were brighter now…

He had stopped believing in fairy tales long ago; fairies were in fables, stone-men in stories, and princesses in parables of false words. Magic could not be cast…

…But that did not mean things were not _magical_…

Music had been one of the few magical things in the Beilschmidt's eyes; the others had been his mother's laugh, his father's arms, and his pillow from childhood, holding the key to dreams of lands faraway.

At least, there was still music…

And perhaps, or perhaps not, there really were dancing lights around the twenty-three year old. There could have been. Why not? Weirder things had happened before, yes?

Either way, Gilbert did not need to see the magic. He just needed to _feel_ it…

Which he did…

Minutes passed as the piece spoke out, as if it had a voice of its own, and Gilbert's fingers were the body through which it spoke; he would not stop, did not stop, and he felt no eyes on him, so there was no reason to do such a thing…

And then…

ZIP!

The first half of the _Chaconne_ was completed, and he could breathe, just for a moment, and open his eyes; in his musically-toned trance, Gilbert had actually moved, and danced somewhat to the music. For now the male's back was to the sitting room, and he was facing a large bay window that was in possession of (tacky) curtains drawn back to let in the sunlight.

"Ah…" A little breath and Gilbert touched the window solemnly; he had done it! He had played the first half of Bach's Chaconne with only a few mistakes here or there! It had been, mostly, as a whole, perfect.

But there was really no time to waste, was there? For if Roderich saw him, he would have been stopped no matter where he was on the piece, be it the end or the middle or neither. He had to finish the entire Chaconne, and play the second half.

So, with another breath being taken in, and a silent prayer of "please" being murmured out in his native tongue, Gilbert lifted the bow of the violin to the sunlight…

And dove in head-first, into the pool of blissful music that was Bach's finest masterpiece…

* * *

Roderich's impropriety levels had reached high levels—his mouth was open just slightly, but large enough to attract in flies of small stature. He was staring, too, and oh, that was quite a rude thing to do, even more so when the subject of the gaze was oblivious to it.

But the Edelstein could not look away; especially when Gilbert broke into the second part of the Chaconne, his back to Roderich's eyes; the light bursting in through the large, crystalline window embraced the twenty-three year old's body in an aura that the twenty-seven year old counter-part could only awe at…

_He…He plays so well…No, he plays __**magnificently**__… _

Well, that explained why Gilbert had been so angry at the brunette's quip about not knowing music; not only had he somehow learned to play Bach's masterpiece, but he had learned to play it like a prodigal child! Were his eyes closed? Yes, yes, they were, Roderich's mind confirmed for him; so he knew it just by memory! Without sheet music, without having to recite the notes or the parts, without anything…!

The Edelstein boy crouched more in the doorway, his face hot like Hell-pit of fire, his heart pounding in his small, dainty ears, but neither bodily reaction registered in Roderich's mind; well, he supposed the feelings in his heart were registering, because he could not stop thinking; thinking on a solo topic that could, and did, only consist of Gilbert.

_He…is beautiful on the outside…I have been saying that for a while now…Beautiful hair, eyes of fiery garnet, just like my mother's jewels on a summer day…He is strong, muscular, he could lift me over his shoulder without a second thought…_

_But…inside…_

_He is beautiful inside, too…He is extroverted, wild, like the horses in the barn…_

_And he is talented…Gloriously talented…He…Could he even be an EQUAL to me at the violin…?_

Roderich felt himself shivering with an unknown emotion as Gilbert hit a high note; how many times was Gilbert more of a fabulous man to him now? Ten times? A hundred? Was he a hundred times greater now? It may even be more…

_He is not just some…urchin…He is a man…a man with talent, with pride, with compassion for things that reach very few people…Yes, he must love Bach if he can play him like that—Oh! Listen to those notes, Roderich, listen to them…He is barely missing any…_

The twenty-seven year old male's heart pounded faster, bubbling with emotions he had never felt before; true feelings of pride for another person, honor to hear Gilbert's notes and talent first-hand; compassion for the man, hoping that he kept up this talent forever, for it made not only Roderich smile, but Gilbert as well. That albino man was smiling, just a ghost of a smile, mind you, while he played…

And Roderich knew just then an important fact he had accidentally unearthed—Gilbert smiling made him smile.

A blush bloomed, and Roderich unconsciously hid his face moreso into the wooden doorframe, eyes misty with emotions and a trickling of happy tears. What he would give for courage to go in and sit and listen at an even closer distance. Would Gilbert have approved of that? Or would he have gone shy and refused?

_Gilbert, shy…? What an unusual image…_

But Roderich had to admit, when he pictured the younger male blushing and softly refusing, he could only say that it was an _adorable_ image…

Oh God, how deep in was he?

It scared Roderich to think he was in too deep…

_But you are…_

That was a teasing voice in his head, and Roderich's kneels felt like bucking again, as they had nearly buckled when Gilbert had been the discovered violinist.

_He…He is...What is he…? What is he in my eyes...?_

Roderich leaned in closer, head now leaving the doorway not of its own accord; for it seemed that the Edelstein's body and mind were of separate spaces, and had lot communication in a sort of power outage. What _was_ the word he was searching for…?

_Beautiful…? Yes, but…_

_Talented…? Yes, again, but still…_

_And I suppose you could also say words such as "fighting spirit" or "a fighting mustang"…He is like an animal—No, he IS an animal…_

_My animal…The animal under my roof, my care, my watchful eyes, and I will not have others gazing at him…_

Nails dug into the wood of the door; Roderich's possessive attitude only shocked him somewhat. He knew he was a selfish man, for he was raised not just as an only son, but as an only child. Maria and Roland had promised unto him that the world was his oyster, that when he reached adulthood anything could be his for the taking—with the right words, or with the right price.

Did he want to take Gilbert with the right words or price? Indeed, he had already tried to tame him with the right words or monetary amount…And that had utterly failed…

_Taming? Hmph. Foolish me, in that case._

For some people just could not be tamed.

But now…the perfect words…what could he say that would perfectly fit into Gilbert's mind, and make him see the rich brunette as more than a master…? And-

Roderich's body gave a jolt—that was it. He knew what word described Gilbert now…

…_Perfect…_

A little gasp, and the musician's face heated up further…Gilbert was perfect…He was a failure when it came to decorum and manners, tradition and society's ways, but he was perfect at being himself…He was perfect when he laughed, fought, cleaned…Because he WAS being himself…That was what it made it all perfect…

_Is he perfect for you…?_

Instantly, Elizaveta's berating from nearly seven days before came into his head; she wanted him to find someone, anyone…Anyone so they both could be saved. Knowing her, she probably did not care if it was a man or a woman at this rate, as long as they were both happy (Although she had always joked about Roderich's femininity!).

Was…_he_ it…?

And if the brunette had thought earlier that his heart could not beat any faster, it did; his skin was achingly warm now, but it was not the same warmth he got in the dead of night, after dreaming of Gilbert's naked body on top of his own. No, this warmth was…special…

Different, and special…

…Roderich only took a moment to realize what this warmth was.

Compassion.

Caring.

Something stronger than attraction, but had the touches of attraction in it.

Desire. We could say that was in there, yes.

_It…It cannot be…_

This was too much; much, much too much. This was not supposed to happen.

He was not supposed to care _this much_…want Gilbert happy _this much_…

But he did…

He cared this much, and he wanted to…

Because Gilbert _was_ this beautiful, _was_ this perfect…He realized it now as the younger male was finishing up with the last notes of Bach's music…

Oh my God…

It all made sense now: The dreams, the subtle watching, the witty banter…his excitement, his desire…his heterosexual doubts, his failing to find a woman interesting for more than five minutes (While Gilbert, surprisingly, was interesting for five lifetimes!)…

Roderich whipped his body around, so he faced the room in which he stood in, his back to the Beilschmidt; he found his breath ragged and hoarse, and he let out a childish whimper of confusion and pain. No, no, how could he have let this happen? How could he have let his heart open up to this…this man!

He was not in love, he knew that…but then what was it? Was it the blooming of love? The very beginning?

_No, no, no, no…_

He was not chanting doubt in his head because he did doubt, and he could see that doubt and say 'yes' to it—No, Roderich knew the truth, and he had to admit it: He wanted Gilbert in some special, perfect, beautiful, desire-filled way, and that way would eventually have a name placed upon it, but just not at this moment.

No, what caused Roderich to shake with fear and say 'no' was just that—fear.

Fear gripped his heart; he was scared concerning the other's feelings if these admissions ever came to light. He feared any parental reaction, any societal reaction—What if his mother found out he was a homosexual? What if his father cut him off from the family business? Or, even, what if they did something to Gilbert? Roderich would never have forgiven himself if anything of that nature was to come to light!

He feared repercussions, the feelings themselves, everything…He feared everything that was abnormal, breaking tradition. Roderich really was a coward, because he could not venture away from the mundane, the normal, the perfect schedule, no matter how much he longed to. That was probably from his childhood, what with Maria's strict scheduling and Roland's harsh teachings.

A quick hug to himself, and Roderich's mind concerning everything positive about Gilbert shut down; for when fear gripped him, he relied on base instincts—his id took over, and the superego shut down in tears. When he was fearful, he would, and did, become powerfully angered. Or sometimes powerfully driven to tears, or, when he was younger and rounder and had even less control, powerful, hungry, sweet-tooth urges.

But it was anger that won out this day, and Roderich's rationality disappeared. Once he registered that Gilbert had stopped playing, but was yet still holding the violin, violet-eyed hardened, a heart turned icy, and the brunette found himself whipping around, marching into the music room, rage spewing from his face (When in all actuality, was he not just angry at himself for being so weak?) as he shouted,

"YOU? GILBERT!"

The albino whipped around, and he had been able to immediately tell from the other's tone that trouble was here; a tanner hand gripped the white-haired Beilschmidt's wrist, jerking the violin out of his grip. The instrument was in turn held in Roderich's by the thin, string-filled neck as he shouted further,

"I TOLD YOU _NEVER TO TOUCH ANY INSTRUMENTS_!"

It was the loudest he had ever shouted; and somewhere in Roderich's brain, a little voice was trying to shout, "Stop, stop!" but it was unheard…

"B-But…I was just-"

The twenty-three year old's wrist was let go, so Roderich's hand could balance the violin better; but there was still no time for Gilbert to finish his sentence before…

SMACK…

The red-eyed male let out a cry as Roderich's hand came up to his cheek, and slapped him harder than he ever had before; harder than that first time, and far from playfully as he had been doing over the past few days. No, this slap was a slap—hard, cold, painful, without a glove to even soften the blow.

"YOU…HOW…HOW DARE YOU! DO YOU _EVER_ LISTEN TO ME? WHY WOULD _YOU_ PLAY SOMETHING ON _MY_ INSTRUMENT? IT IS NOT YOURS TO TOUCH, TO GAZE AT, ANYTHING! YOU ARE NOT TO HAVE IT IN YOUR POSESSION EVER AGAIN, DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?"

Roderich's heavy breathing during the shouting was the only thing that could be heard in the moment of silence; he had moved his free hand, the one that had struck Gilbert, to hold the younger's wrist once more, while the man himself hung his head, gaze turned away from Roderich. And the chocolate-locked man could not discern it whatsoever—in fact, the only thing he could discern was that Gilbert was slightly shaking.

"WELL! DO YOU HAVE ANYTHING TO SAY?" The Edelstein's shouting had actually gone down a few decibels, because slowly, ever so slowly, his mind was starting to realize that this had been the wrong route to go down. Nevertheless, he expected some sort of argument from Gilbert, and some banter would ensue, and everything would…well…eventually turn normal again. And perhaps Roderich could slide in an apology, and Gilbert could apologize for not asking for permission, and…

…And…Well…Something good would happen…

…Right…?

"…" Gilbert remained mute, though—except for one little noise: a sniffle.

And instantly, Roderich's heart dropped; something was wrong.

"…Why?" It was so quiet, the shorter male barely heard it; leaning in closer, with a confused look on his face, Roderich gave the other a silent questioning of to repeat what he said, and Gilbert did so, with,

"Why…? Why does this happen…? Keep happening…?"

And at that, Gilbert turned his face fully towards Rod—and it was as if glass was breaking.

Or if Roderich's heart was breaking…

For Gilbert was not angry…he was _crying_…

"Ah…" The brunette's heart cracked at the sight of ruby eyes filled with tears; their pairs of orbs locked, and Roderich's mouth was floundering like a fish.

_NONONONO, YOU IDIOT…!_

But the silence that existed for merely a moment broke, when the albino's face twisted in agony, and from there into pure rage, even more fiery than their last arguments,

"WHY DOES EVERYTHING KEEP GETTING TAKEN AWAY FROM ME? WHY DO PEOPLE LIKE _YOU_ DO IT?"

The Edelstein did not even have time to respond; Gilbert yanked his wrist free from the rich boy's grasp, and began to bolt from the room, his feet flying like a swallow's wings in the sky—fast and fleeting to the eye.

"Ah…G-GILBERT!" Roderich's heart kicked in overdrive; he gently threw the violin onto the nearest piece of furniture, his prized white couch with flora patterns, and it landed with a plop, nearly on the edge of the aged piece of décor. But the brunette far from cared as he followed the younger man out of the room, and through the hall, shouting, "GILBERT, WAIT! WAIT, COME BACK!"

But his pleading was ignored, and he eventually came to a halt with pleas, for Gilbert stomped down the steps to the basement, slamming the door behind him with a BANG that was loud enough to rattle the wall. Immediately, Roderich ran to open the door and follow the other further…but was shocked to find it locked from the inside.

"Ah…G-Gilbert! GILBERT! OPEN THE DOOR, PLEASE!" He jiggled and pulled on the handle, but nothing budged; Roderich could go and retrieve the keys from his master bedroom, keys that opened and closed every room on the entire estate, but what good would that do? Gilbert would just keep running, possibly locking himself in every closet, including the one that was his "bedroom".

"Gilbert…? Gilbert, PLEASE, just open the door and come talk to me! I-I APOLOGIZE!" But Roderich heard no response except for a shuffling of…what? And then a heavy thud against the basement's door sounded out, the same door upon which the Edelstein was now leaning on, wondering if the Gods would give him the power to pass through solid matter.

What had that noise been? Had Gilbert placed a heavy box in front of the door? It had sounded like so…and the twenty-three year old was desperate enough to stop Roderich through any means, from what Roderich himself could tell.

"Gilbert…" His voice had gone from booming to barely above a whisper, as mauve eyes stared at the door; what had he done? And what had the Beilschmidt male meant by his words? What had caused him such, such pain? Enough pain that he had to hide from Roderich in a wrath-filled mood, apparently, but…what…?

A sigh, and another futile knock…Roderich's energy feeling completely drained; the heaven and harmony he had felt from Gilbert's music, the feelings that had washed over his entire body for minutes on end had washed away completely, and he was only left with the cold and icy feelings from Gilbert's cries…

The Edelstein retreated to his music room, fleeing from the darkness of his emotions, ideas, and sorrows; a door slammed, the cover of the piano being thrown up with a noise, and Chopin and Vivaldi and more were blasted out, the music over-flowing everything that existed in Roderich's mind…

Everything, except…

Gilbert's eyes and how they had been moments before…

* * *

He had spent more time smoking, sadly, than playing the piano, and far more time doing both of those things than working; the sun was setting now, the day and evening having passed without more disturbances. Roderich had barely eaten the food left for him on the piano's top by Belle, and he had barely glanced at Mei when she poked her head in to check upon her master.

But now, the brunette found his feet wandering into the kitchen, past the stairway to the basement with a subtle wince crossing his face, his hands carrying a half-empty wine glass and cold salmon. With barely any sound, his feet stopped to place the dishes silently on the counter, not even acknowledging that Mona stood at the sink, washing the final meal's dishes with serious, pursed lips gracing her features.

"…Thank you, Sir." She muttered quietly, without looking up, but when Roderich merely nodded without a word, the Bonnefoy woman frowned deeper, and, to Roderich's surprise, put a plate down with a clang that was loud enough to make the rich man start. Turning, he came to find she was staring, no, _glaring_ at him.

"M-Mona-?"

She only glared more darkly at the call of her name, icy eyes boring into Roderich's very soul, and way past his organs; finally, after a moment, she spat with venom,

"With all due respect Sir, I must ask…W-What were you thinking?"

So she knew. Obviously, she would eventually find out, she was the maid that was closest to Gilbert. And since, also, Roderich had not kept the argument…subtle, per se, he would not be surprised if Mei, Natalia and Belle also knew.

Slightly hanging his head with shame, Roderich murmured, "So you know-"

"KNOW?" Her tone was fiery, and she shook her head hard enough to shake the long ponytail of sunny-blonde, nearly platinum-blonde hair, "How can I NOT know, Sir? Not only were you screaming like a banshee for…for no reason whatsoever, but I came upon a sobbing Gilbert hiding in his bedroom! And not only do I know, but so do the other girls! Roderich, excuse my impertinence, but _what is wrong with you?_"

Mona's voice was edging between begging and bashing; her eyes between the emotions of pleading, sorrow, and shame. And though she expected her master to yell, berate and stomp around like the spoiled child he was…Roderich did none of that; in fact, he only hung his head further, slowly traveled to the worn kitchen table and chairs, finally coming to sit on one chair with his head in his hands.

"Your impertinence is forgiven…And to answer your question, I do not know what is wrong with me…" Roderich's voice was muffled, yet the anguish was completely felt and heard.

"…" A sigh from the lady came next, as she sat the wine glass into the sink, "Master Roderich, please forgive me when I say this: You are a dreadfully spoiled, ignorant child who is oblivious to the real world…"

The brunette visibly stiffened, but no denial came from his lips; he knew it was true—way too true.

"You do not see how words can…harm a person, especially one who is fragile like Gilbert…"

"You're wrong!" At that, Roderich's head shot up, "He is quite strong, quite valiant-"

"Is he?" came the soft interruption, and it made Roderich's heart skip a beat; was Gilbert fragile? No! _Nein!_ He was so strong, always laughing and shrugging off everything…except this. So…was Mona right?

"…I…I just…I-I did not mean to yell, I was…"

"Just…what, Sir?" Now Mona had finished her job and was leaning against the counter, arms crossed, a perplexed gaze flowing easily past her spectacles.

"…Scared…" It was soft, a whisper, and Roderich's face was resting in his hands again.

Silence filled the room, Mona only quirking an eyebrow, while her mind went to work, synapses firing as thoughts came into being: Her master called Gilbert "strong" and "valiant"…He had yelled at Gilbert, then had begged his forgiveness like he has spurned the Beilschmidt as a lover-…

Oh.

_OH…_

She was such a fool…Why did she not see it before? And Mona thought she was good at this sort of thing!

"…You care deeply for Gilbert, do you not, Sir?" That also just emphasized Mona's statement about Roderich being oblivious to the real world—he was oblivious on how to act, how to properly show feelings, and _how to not hide from them_.

"…Yes…" Another whisper, Roderich's head moving from his hands just a tiny bit, his eyes brushing over the tips of his fingers, "Yes, I do Mona…"

"Foolish me, I should have realized it when you yelled at him so much…" A tiny smirk flitted across Mona's face, "But it just makes what I said more true, Roderich. Gilbert is fragile and you do not know it, and you know nothing on how to act around people."

"But are you truly surprised?" Quipped the richer male and the female just let out a righteous laugh.

"No, of course not. I have known your parents for quite a while; I know how they raised you. Isolated you. They molded you, creating you in their image-"

"Mona…" A warning tone from the other, but the blonde just smiled, stating, while drying her hands,

"And do you deny it? Roderich, look at your life; you were programmed into behaving this way. Straighten your shoulders! Chin up! Sell this instrument, play that one!" Mona waved her hands with dramatic gestures, and even used a mock curtsy when she stated, "Grace the ladies with a bow, take their hands into yours with grace and guide them over the dance-floor. Ignore the lowly classes, they are meant to serve your perfect little body and soul!" She twirled around, her red dress billowing a tad, "You were molded like clay, Sir, to behave this way. It's easy to tell why you are the way you are. You fear anything that diverts you from your 'destined' path."

"…" Roderich only took her words in without any of his own, eyes glazing over in thought; when Mona looked at him for a response, he merely nodded, stating silently "go on".

"And because of that…you hide your feelings. You hide from everything that is different from you, your parents, your implanted values…everything." A simple shrug followed, "And thus, you scared away Gilbert."

"But…But I did not wish to do such a thing!"

"Of course not, but…things happen. Accidents happen…" Her expression grew softer, "Roderich…You frightened him away because your words just…happened to play on Gilbert's fears. And his past. It is not something you did purposefully at all, but…In hiding your real feelings through anger…you probed at parts of him that he longed to not think on."

"…" Silence for some time, and Roderich merely let his violet eyes bore into her; he eventually had the strength to say, "Tell me. Tell me why I hurt him so badly. What did…What did he mean by things being taken away from him?"

"It is not my place to say." Mona immediately responded, with a rock-hard tone, "Ask him your-…"

But when her crystalline eyes gazed upon the Austrian master before her, who was pleading silently, hands clenching on his pant legs, Mona felt her determination give, and she sighed. Mutely, she made two cups of tea, and took a seat at the kitchen table with Roderich…

And she told him everything Gilbert had passed along to her over the many hours and days, nearing into weeks that had come and gone…

How Gilbert had been in a prominent family for many years…Not as high a class as Roderich's, but well off...

How his mother had taken ill…

How his father had been destroyed…

How the destruction lead to Death…

Which lead to abandonment and poverty…

And the loss of the most precious violin in the world…

"V-Violin!" Roderich nearly dropped his teacup at that part of the story, his face going paler than it had been all through the tale, "He…had a violin?"

"…Yes…" The blonde lass whispered, wondering if she had gone too far; Gilbert would become so angry when he found out she had told Roderich everything! "It…It was…"

"It was what?" The other was like a child having a bedtime story told to him; his thin, dainty head leaned in closer to Mona with rapt attention.

"It was one of _yours_, Sir…"

The brunette gasped—No…Did she mean…?

He had had an _Edelstein _violin…?

At Rod's expression, Mona reiterated, "Yes, Sir. It was an _Edelstein_ creation."

Instantly, Roderich's heart hammered; that…that explained everything. Why Gilbert had been so wary of being his servant (To serve the man that had made your most precious treasure!), why he had been so angry at Roderich for the jab at his musical prowess…And…And…

"Oh…Oh my God…"

"Yes. You understand now why he was so upset at you when you yelled at him about the violin…You were taking it away from him just like the debtors had done. He will never have another actual violin at this rate, let alone an Edelstein one…So it pains him."

Roderich did not respond verbally; he merely hung his head in his hands, and let out a whimper of distress; what had he done? Gilbert had every reason to hate him for his actions. Even if he had not stomped upon the albino's already-troubled past, he had been nothing but rude, dictatorial, completely inhumane! But he _had_ stomped upon the past, which only made it not doubled, but tripled, in grief and pain.

Drowning in his own sorrows, Roderich could only see hopelessness for some time; perhaps he should fire Gilbert, and make the pain easier on both of them…

…But the idea of the Beilschmidt no longer being in the house…made the violated-eyed male feel extremely…cold…

"I-I have to do something…" Came the soft whisper, "But…what?"

"I cannot tell you that at all. You have to figure it out on your own, Sir, and you know it. But…not tonight. Give him time, please," Mona gently pleaded, "Both of you will feel more at ease come morn. So…rest…please. A-And-!" She exclaimed as Roderich meant to stand, his head hanging a tad.

"Yes, Mona?"

"Please do not tell him I told you all of what he has shared with me. I know he will figure it out eventually…but…I…"

"You?"

"I do not want him to hear it from your mouth; if he figures it out later, once he is calmer, the pain will…not be as great, Sir. Hearing it straight from your mouth…"

"…Would be…bad?"

Mona merely nodded, "I do not wish for him to feel as if he has been betrayed once again."

* * *

He vowed that to her, right then and there; Roderich could understand the Bonnefoy woman's point of view—If he spouted it out to Gilbert during the coming-up confrontation, who knew what the twenty three year old's anger could warp Mona's help into. It could go from aid to agony!

And for the night, Roderich retreated to his private fortress of a room, barely sleeping, waking up to smoke away a pack of cigarettes, the smoke wafting out into the night air from his private bay windows and seat. And when the Edelstein could slumber, dreams were fretful, fit for a guilty king on the throne in the English countryside.

It was the next day soon enough, and the twenty-seven year old felt a chill settle over the entire estate; the maids were more demure and softer in their chatter, and Roderich knew that when he walked past them, that they gave subtle glares of contempt and disappointment.

He was resolved to fix this! He knew Gilbert was at work once again, probably to take his mind off the display of anger and weakness from them both, but where? For hours on end, without stopping to work, Roderich searched the house for the albino male, but it seemed that, each time he checked a room, Gilbert had already moved on—he was working fast and staying out of the Edelstein's way on purpose.

Though the younger male was hopping from room to room like a bunny-rabbit, Roderich kept on his tail, flashes of white hair being out of the corner of his eyes often, causing him to turn around quickly, and go in that direction—Yet finding nothing, Gilbert already having moved onto another room, or up the stairs…And he could not chase him that blatantly. That would have caused questions.

So, Roderich waited. Hidden behind the piano, while not concentrating on the piece bellowing from his fingers, eyes searching for a sign; or there he would be, reading a novel, and seeing Gilbert outside sweeping the porch, would burst from his spot on the couch, nearly dropping his tea cup, only to find Gilbert had vanished already.

Gilbert probably knew he was being followed, hence the Beilschmidt's fast movements…Or this was what Roderich thought, until the late afternoon sun was shining through the bay windows come three o' clock.

For there and then, just when he believed he should stop this stupid game of chasing, and longing, and wanting to apologize, Roderich found Gilbert sitting in the front sitting and living room, face turned towards the front windows with a blank expression on his face, hands neatly folded in his lap. Although normally Roderich would have scolded the man for having dirty boots in the room, or having his dusty clothes sitting on his pristine pink arm chair, he halted, merely standing in the doorway to the glittering "palace" that existed in his home.

Gilbert's eyes in the reflection in the glass windows gazed upward, catching the violet-eyed man's own, but he said nothing, his mouth merely turning into a thinner line that it already was. His eyes, though, communicated the silent, obvious message: You have been looking for me, and here I am, on my terms.

That was what the whole day had been, yes? Gilbert avoiding him because it was what _he_ wanted, not what _Roderich_ wanted?

"…Ah…" He never seemed to be able to start a sentence with an actual word these days, but Roderich swallowed the lump in his throat, and coughed a smidge, before stating, "You…have done quite well today…With your work…"

"Are you only here to just compliment my work?" The white-haired male spat with a type of eerie calmness, and it was obvious his anger, being held back by thinning and worn ropes, was nearly breaking through.

And though he failed to turn, Gilbert's feelings were just as visible in the reflection, and Roderich found himself sighing, shaking his head,

"I…wish to explain-"

"What if I do not want to hear you explain? What if I have nothing to say?"

A wan smile from the older male appeared, "You? Silent? That would be quite a change."

And…yes…there had been a flicker of a smile flitting across Gilbert's face; Roderich took it as a sign to continue.

"I…" Ah, now that he was here, and had Gilbert's attention, he barely knew where to begin! What to say! The brunette could feel his throat tightening with nerves, and a few stuttering noises came forth before, "I…I-I do not know where to begin…"

"The beginning usually works, ya know."

"…Y-Yes…" Roderich shuffled closer, and realized that his demeanor had to change; he could not come off as huffy or haughty, or rich and refined—he had to be…just…human…

So with that, he took the chair opposite of Gilbert's, hands shaking, and let out another sigh, stating, "I…I must apologize."

Red eyes blinked, "'Must'?"

"Y-Yes…must…" Another shaky breath, "I say 'must' because…I cannot afford to…N-No, I mean, I…I do not…"

_SAY IT! Say the TRUTH this time, you fool…! You have only one more chance, and then it is OVER…!_

"I…Gilbert…I do not wish for you to be angry at me…I do not wish for you to hate me, Gilbert…I could not live with that, if you did…"

His words had been so quiet, yet so 'loud' at the same time, full of emotions that Roderich rarely used, that they caused Gilbert to actually turn his head so it was on level with the other's, eyes ablaze with confusion, sadness, and possibly even warmth.

"…You…You what?"

"I-I have made a mistake, Gilbert. Many…Many mistakes with you…O-Oh, I mean, I…" He has to pause again, biting his lip; he was so poor with words, so bad with human expressions! But then Roderich got his footing again, shaking his head,

"What I said…It was a mistake…I…I had no right to treat you like a dog the previous day, and that is what I did. You did not deserve for me to yell at you in such a barbaric way. You were not harming anyone, and I should not have stooped to such a level, when I was barely angry at all…You…You did not deserve to be the object of my fears and angers after all you have been through-"

"W-What?" Gilbert stammered, but the Edelstein held up a hand, silently begging the other to halt his oncoming words, so he could continue with,

"Gilbert…I am a poor excuse for a master, let alone a human being. I have been told I was isolated, sheltered, and created into something that…that does not know how to interact with others. And that person who told me is correct. And because of that, my fears and joys…are hidden many a time. I usually hide them with a mask of indifference or anger. And it was the later you saw yesterday."

The albino man merely nodded, seeming a tad confused, but knowing enough to understand somewhat, "_J-Ja_…I…I think I get that…"

"Good…I am unlike you, in so many ways." A sad smile came to Roderich's face, "You are human-like; actually a human with emotions, desires, feelings…Sometimes I wonder if I am just like a steam-engine train. Cold and with little emotion."

Silence followed that, and slowly, Gilbert's shoulders relaxed while Roderich hung his head, a tiny sniffle echoing from his body; they sat like that for some time, but neither really seemed put out, or upset, except for the elder male, who was doing his best to rein in tears.

And yet…there was a comfort between them…Small, tiny, yet growing…

And then, the speech started up again, "Roderich?"

"Y-Yes?"

"…You said I didn't deserved it after...everything I have been through…How-"

"Forgive me, but…I cannot tell you how I know, but…_I know_."

He did not need to say what; Gilbert knew by the now-clearly-visible tears in the Edelstein's eyes what exactly he knew, and it made the taller male cringe; he hoped he would not get questioned about his past, not completely—he was hardly in the mood for it.

But only one question came forth, after Roderich dabbed his eyes,

"Gilbert, forgive me for asking…But…How did your father actually die?"

That was an unexpected probe, and it caused the other to blink, and sink into his chair a bit more, as he murmured, "Cholera. There was an outbreak in the area of town we lived at the time, but it ended with my father. I'm still not sure how my brother and I escaped being sick, though."

"Must you ponder that? I would hardly think you should…Please, just be grateful you are here…"

Gilbert bit his lip, nodding, "Yeah…I suppose…'Here' is not great, though."

"It will be." Roderich responded instantly, his gaze no longer teary, but firm, "I shall make sure we…fix everything."

"…Ah…" Now it was the Beilschmidt's turn to stutter, "Y-You…You don't have to-"

"But I want to. Gilbert, I…I feel terrible…If I had known that you had gone through so much-!"

"Listen, Specs," The servant interrupted, pouting a tad, and leaning forward, "I don't want special treatment 'cause you pity my situation. Lots of kids have been orphaned and live in poverty. If you're gonna make life better for me, do it because I am _awesome_ (which I am) and because ya _like_ me."

"Done." Was the immediate response, and Roderich's passion in that one word actually made Gilbert blush; he had been so serious, so adamant on making things better with that one word, that the younger found himself a loss for words.

"Ah…Ah…W-Well-…"

"Gilbert, you are one-hundred percent right. I shall always _feel_ pity for you, and feel sympathy. But I shall not pity you in _action_. Nor can I feel empathy, for I do not know what it is like to lose everything so quickly and so painfully. I have merely been given everything, not have it taken away. But I will make life better for you because…" A pause, and a sprinkling of pink appeared on Roderich's cheeks, "Because I like you…"

Both men became immediately embarrassed, turning pink and even dark red; Gilbert hid his mouth in his hand, hiding a smile and his finger tips hiding the edges of his blush. Roderich suddenly found the front gardens quite interesting, eyeing the other out of his peripheral vision, his heart hammering, the idea that this was more than 'like' coming forward again into the front of his mind, and he could change everything with one forward motion…but he was hardly ready.

But he was more than ready to start again, and Gilbert was too, for it was confirmed with one word,

"…Okay…"

He did not get an 'I accept your apology'; he knew he never would, that was hardly Gilbert's style. But that lone word, and the shy, small smile on his pallid face was enough for Roderich, and he barely held in the grin-…No. He did not hide that grin through mind-games; the Edelstein grinned, and hid it only somewhat behind his fingers, like a dainty woman.

"Okay, then…"

"Okay…" Gilbert repeated, nodding, and Roderich, to his surprise, stood.

"Then I know how we can begin." The man in the purple dress shirt exited the room with a flourish, and returned a moment later, with something that made Gilbert's jaw nearly drop.

"I…I…No." He turned away again; although he was on the road to forgiving Roderich (And maybe already had), the humiliation of crying and being caught playing the off-limits violin was still fresh in his mind…so that was why Gilbert turned away from the beautiful case of the Stradivarius Roderich now held in his hands.

"Yes. Yes, Gilbert…" The brunette sat once again, and opened the case, "Please…play for me…Play again, because you are the most wonderful violinist that I have heard in years, if not ever!"

Apparently, blunt honesty was an addicting toxin, because Roderich had not meant to admit that so bluntly…or right now…but he did, and he did not wish to take it back because it was true…

Gilbert felt his face reddening even more, eyes widening to a nearly-abnormal degree as he stared at the violin Roderich was offering him with pleading eyes.

"But…"

"You may play whenever you wish from now on, Gilbert. I shall never stop you…Please…play again…Please…And let us just put this behind us…I-I shall even teach you in my free time, I shall teach you new pieces by composers if that will make you happy!"

_I never want to make you cry again…I just want you to be happy…make music…please…_

"…" Silence for a moment, as the younger stared into the Edelstein's eyes; there was begging in those orbs, the purple color shining with tears, nearly, once again, and Gilbert realized the other was right—he did want to put all of this behind him. He wanted to forget the argument, the crying, the humiliation…He did not want Roderich to see him as a weak, pitiful servant; he wanted him to see him as a human being…

And as he stared into those purple little windows seated in Roderich's head…Gilbert realized he did…Roderich was seeing him as human, finally seeing him completely as a person without a title…who had sufferings…who had a curious past and an even curiouser present…

A small smile, and rough, pale hands picked up the violin, tuning it quickly, and the servant began to play the only song he knew, the _Chaconne_; the brunette came to stand behind the Beilschmidt's chair, arms resting on its plushy back, chin upon those arms.

He was truly the most beautiful man…His talent was superb, and if he had been in a higher class still today, a medium-level at the minimum, he would have gone so far…Perhaps he still would go far, if…if…

Oh, who truly knew what was going to happen? Roderich would not question it further…He would let it come, however it may. He was quite content not to push Gilbert into mayhem or crowds and parade his musical talent around. He was just…happy to have him happy…

And he could tell that the other was happy…there was harmony between them again, and the site of the albino's smile made his heart thud without pause; there was a moment where Gilbert smiled up at him as he played, noses almost touching, and he wondered what would happen if he just leaned in and…and pressed his lips closer…

No…No, he could not…

…Not yet, said a quiet voice in his head…

Yet, it was there.

The want.

The pain of the want.

How many more nights could he really go without…fulfilling this desire…? It was wrong, but with each passing hour that Gilbert smiled at him, or teased him, and nearly seemed to leer at him like that of a vicious lover (Or was that his imagination?), the feelings-of-wrongness faded away…

He had to wait, though…Roderich knew he had to wait…

Gilbert had just returned to his side as loyal confidant and friend and servant, ready to lay down many a hand to keep the other happy, while receiving happiness in return…

But it was Roderich who wanted to bow and kiss _Gilbert's_ hand, lay down whatever he had to, to make him happy, the happiest man in the world.

Was it love…? Should he even _ask_ that…?

_Maybe…_

Maybe, he said to himself…

Who was he to say yes or no…?

No, he was content to let that come, too…

The truth would come if he just waited like the content person he was…

And yet…

They said that those who fall in love were quite foolish…"Only fools fall in love", was the words his own mother had said to him…

But…He admitted to himself…

It was Gilbert's smile, his laugh, his figure…they all made him feel foolish in behavior and spirit, like he was a fool in his actions, that he messed up and thus felt foolish for doing so, that he was a fool to yell and scream, and to batter and badger…

Gilbert, the objection of his affections…made him feel quite foolish indeed…

And Roderich was quite content with that as well.

* * *

_"You fail to recognize that it matters not what someone is born, but what they grow to be."_

- Albus Dumbledore, of the _Harry Potter_ Series

* * *

A/N: Tada! Oh, a happy ending! Did you have faith in me that it would come? I hope so :)

Anyway, next chapter? Well, I'm hoping it's a doozy too. As in a doozy full of good things. We shall see! Expect it soon my dears!

Thanks so much for reading! I shall see you all soon!


	10. Das Paradies

A/N: Hello my lovely readers!

I hope you all had a wonderful summer! It's been a while, but I too was busy the past month or so, and now that school is looming very, very close (I move into my dorm come Saturday!), we're all deserving of one last summer chapter of my story :)

I do plan to hopefully keep updating over the school year, springing up chapters once in a while (Thank God I sometimes get days off!), and making sure the story isn't forgotten, along with my other major story too. So, let's stop talking and get on with the show! Thanks for reading!

Note:_ 'Das Paradies'_ is German for 'The Paradise'.

**Song Inspiration**:

- "Angels on the Moon", by Thriving Ivory

- "What You Want", by Evanescence

- "Edge of Glory", by Lady Gaga

- "Cinderella Man", by Eminem (Odd choice, I know! But you'll see the inspiration in a few lines from Elizaveta)

- "Marry Me", by Train

- "Wonderland", by Natalia Kills (Yes, how fitting of a name, right?)

- "All is Full of Love", by Bjork

- "The Only Exception", by Paramore

* * *

10

_Das Paradies _

* * *

_Better to be without logic than without feeling._

_- Charlotte Bronte_

* * *

He had heard of the mysterious drug labeled "opium"; it was said to twist the mind, ensnare the senses, and take you to another world full of happiness and delight. But being a high-class, high-brow individual, Roderich would never pick up that pipe, never dabble in that drug…

But now, as the days passed from that dreadful fight the brunette and albino had started, Roderich knew what opium felt like…The sensation of being out of your body, of being truly happy, in a world that was far from the mundane. That was the world he felt, saw, tasted, and touched…it was purely magical, definitely drug-like…He could close his eyes and feel hidden sensations all the way down his spine, making his toes curl and eyes flutter behind his eyelids. His heart was on fire with ecstasy, with a type of stupidity that was blissful.

His hands were sloppy with tea-cups (To Natalia's chagrin and dismay), but his fingertips danced across the ivories of his glorious grand piano. Roderich's body would rock back and forth as piece after piece of Vivaldi, Bach, and Beethoven rang out; misty amethyst eyes would be closed in rapture, and each time, he could see Gilbert Beilschmidt's perfect, almost "fanged" smile.

For yes, the days had been going not just splendidly—they had been going _perfectly_.

Work was flying by Roderich's eyes; he would sign the forms, okay the new designs, and sometimes his mind was not even fully there. He just wanted to get past it all and move on towards better things—including periods of relaxation with Gilbert.

'Relaxation' usually entailed teaching the younger more compositions for the violin, but it _was_ relaxing. Gilbert was a natural with the string instrument, and violet eyes could not help but sparkle as the albino would practice pieces from Bach and Beethoven's hands; Roderich's ears nearly wiggled when the manservant would question if he was in possession of Vivaldi and Wagner artifacts and compositions, and the Edelstein's feet felt lighter as he would in turn show the Beilschmidt how to perform the tunes and notes with visual example.

He would then take in the sights of Gilbert working after practice, and he, the younger, seemed happier too; there was a heartier laugh now coming from his rough throat, a brighter glimmer in those ruby eyes, and it made Roderich's own orbs melt, and his heart was set even more afire.

Things were just…better now…He and the other were friends, but…almost _more_ than friends.

Maybe that was why Roderich was in such a heavenly mood; the pair had reached a threshold that was towards a canyon that would mean greater and more sensual matters and they could jump into said ravine if they both wished to. It was obvious to both of them that that was the destination they were at; there were subtle glances, and Roderich no longer feared to hold Gilbert's hand during their tutoring sessions. The younger male would lean back into the shorter male's body and neither could hide the little gasp of breath that would come forth from both sets of lungs. The Edelstein would flush, and have his eyes flutter, and deign to never move, if the Gods would permit it.

And then there had been last Tuesday—the month of May was cresting, and late spring and early summer were mixing together to create a heat that was a bit unusual for the English countryside. Maybe it was the heat, then, that had caused the pair to meet more intimately than usual that day. Roderich had quipped about the idea of Gilbert learning how to play the flute earlier that morning, when the albino had brought him his morning tea; the other had been nervous about such a prospect, but the Edelstein, in all his huffy, stubborn glory, persisted and the Beilschmidt eventually gave in.

So come three o' clock, Roderich stood behind the other, helping him position his hands upon the metallic wind instrument…

"Wipe your hands, Beilschmidt. I can nearly see the sweat upon your hands. You are far too nervous." Roderich could not help but smirk, and even chuckle, his hands resting on Gilbert's arms as the other wiped his fingers on his pant legs.

"Well, wouldn't you be? Are you _sure_ about this? I mean-"

"Yes, for the last time, I am. Gilbert, if I did not think you could handle learning a second instrument, I would not be teaching you, yes? Why would I waste my time?"

"…And _my_ time." Ruby eyes rolled as Roderich just snorted, placing the flute in Gilbert's strong appendages; they continued small chatter, mostly instructions from the Edelstein's side, and mostly consisting of how Gilbert was to blow into the instrument (Of course, there was a perverted snicker with that statement, and a blush blooming on the brunette's face) and move his fingers.

He was tentative, slow, and highly nervous; amethyst eyes could not wander away from the actually-scared albino; was he worried about disappointing Roderich? About failing? Maybe he was worrying that he was only good with one instrument…? Each idea made the elder's heart squeeze with tender emotion, for he was truly seeing another vulnerable side of Gilbert, just as he had during their fight.

"Relax, Gilbert…really…" His voice was softer, his eyes lidded, and a warmth was billowing in Roderich's stomach, like lava had grown and sprouted from his veins and was now moving everywhere, to his toes, and to his hairline. Maybe it was because the twenty-three year old was here, and so close, and so inviting. Maybe it was because Roderich nearly sprouted physical, valentine-like hearts each time he would gaze at his younger companion…Maybe it was just everything boiling over…

"Mmn…" Either way, violet eyes closed completely, and Roderich's chin came to rest on Gilbert's broad shoulder, one nimble hand on Gilbert's left arm, the other resting on his right side. A soft breath echoed out from his lips, touching the albino's neck, and it was unknown knowledge to the aristocrat, but the servant had shivered lightly.

"A-Ah…?" Red orbs had trailed to the other's head, and though Roderich could not see it, it was undeniably true that Gilbert's face was as red as a tomato and that he himself was finding confusing pleasure in the closeness; and there was just something beautiful about the way the older man looked just then…peaceful, serene, the glasses on his nose and face highlighting his dainty features; he was an effeminate man, but…the Beilschmidt liked that. If anything, he loved that…He was tired of manly men pushing his buttons, ordering him around; it had always been unattractive in the most repugnant way. But here was Roderich, feminine and powerful, and he was happy to be this way…a proud, uppity musician that could only be knocked down by he himself, Gilbert…

"Roderich?" A soft whisper had echoed out then, and violet eyes opened slowly, colliding with Gilbert's own; a moment of connection had happened that day, a soft, silent understanding that there was more there between them. Roderich leaned in, even, just a bit, like a curious child gazing at a wild animal, and he found his breath catching as Gilbert's face was nothing but soft, kind, maybe even a bit worried that the Edelstein had just stopped teaching to rest his head.

_I think I love you…_

It was a need, a drug-filled desire, and although he had flushed bright red, and fled with a quick excuse that day, the drug-like state and stupor had not let Roderich go. The days were better, life was better, and maybe…secretly…something could happen.

That something, though, was a tempting mystery, and each day that Roderich did _not_ solve it, just increased the frustration. It did not help that "duty" and "true love" seemed to belong in the group of "cannot mix for they result in a situation that is akin to inbreeding", for each time he tried to gather his courage and spend alone time with the Beilschmidt, other than the pre-ordained teaching times (Which also did not happen that often), there was usually an interruption.

It could be work…It usually was work, sadly, and each time, Roderich found himself grumbling like a petulant child instead of actually being calm, demure, and doing said work. Other times consisted of unexpected visits from the parents, who would not hesitate to remind Roderich of "work, work, work!" and "marriage, marriage, marriage!". And the maids, yes, they needed his attention…

And then there was…

"Roderich! Do not forget, you have a private luncheon date with Miss Elizaveta tomorrow!"

Oh yes, he had forgotten about that…

But now here he was, in present time, sitting upon the grass on the Héderváry estate; his fiancée had begged and pleaded for him to dine with her in picnic-fashion; below him was a blanket of blue and white, a green fauna pattern in the darker squares. Tino had cooked up lovely, dainty sandwiches for his mistress of the watercress fashion, and cubes of cheese and cucumbers were laid out before both of them.

But for Roderich, the food was a bland taste on his tongue; not because it was bland, but his mind would not, and could not, simply comprehend the taste. Surely, it was elsewhere, back at his own home, miles away—he knew he would not be home until past dusk, and surely then he would be too tired to do anything…and who was to say Gilbert would not retire early, and then-

"Roderich? You have barely touched your food…"

" A-Ah?" Amethyst eyes blinked, turning towards Elizaveta, whose curious green gaze was boring into his face, "O-Oh, I'm quite fine, the food is wonderful…"

But the woman was apparently not satisfied with that answer; Elizaveta merely leaned in closer, her lips going into a pout of concentration, and she let out an 'hmm' of perplexed thought.

"W-What is it…?" The Edelstein shifted uncomfortable under the younger's suspicion.

"Aha~! Yes, it is there."

"W-What is there?" Was there something on his face? Food? Dirt?

A giggle, "A _glow_, silly! Look at you! I have not seen you this happy before."

Roderich felt himself blushing, a shy smile crossing his face, "W-Well…I…I really have no idea what you are talking about-"

"You are quite a liar!" The brunette woman laughed heartily, nearly spilling the tea held in her hands, "Roderich, really, be honest with me. Why are you so happy? Could it be…?"

"…Be what…?"

She quirked an eyebrow, and right then, Roderich knew Elizaveta had concocted a devilish fantasy in that feminine, wily head of hers, "You have met someone? A…new _man_ perhaps?"

"M-MAN?" The sandwich fell to the blanket with shock, and Roderich's voice had hit a girlish, interesting decibel that he had never once used before.

"Yes, 'man'. Oh, Roderich, we have been over this. You are a homosexual, and I know it-"

"E-Elizaveta, silence! Please!" Face burning, the brunette did the only decent thing he could, which was to bury his face in his hands.

"Dear Roderich, really? Hiding away and denying it? For once, just tell me the truth!"

"T-There is nothing to tell, honest!"

And then…Roderich caught something he had not seen in the Hungarian in a long time:

A glow of anger.

Fiery red, and passionate, she stood up, crossed her arms, and merely glared at the Edelstein. No words, no movement, only a glare that was as if a laser or a ray of sun was shooting right through the center of Roderich's head. It would have hurt less had the lass damaged him with a frying pan or another cooking implement.

Shivering, and whimpering, Roderich eventually gave in with a shout of, "Fine, fine! I shall tell you, just stop that incessant glaring!"

Immediately, the dangerous, lurking, evil aura that could tell only foretell doom vanished, and the woman merely smiled, giggling like the schoolgirl she had once been; daintily sitting back down, her pink and black dress fanning out before her, Elizaveta immediately started in on her fiancé with,

"Well? Out with it, share, share!"

"…" There was a moment of hesitation on Roderich's part, his lips being bitten by his teeth, but then…

It all came pouring out…

Roderich hopped to his feet, face flushing, and began to spill the words like he was the spirit of the Niagara Falls; arms and hands were gesticulating, sometimes going to his chest in a powerful, emotional gesture straight from the nearest romance novels. Other times, he would fling them about like wild birds in a cage. All the while, Elizaveta had been silent, except for the beginning, when she had gasped out,

"Gilbert! _Him_? The _servant_?" It was decently-fake acting, too, but the Austrian failed to notice it at all, and he merely shouted back,

"Of _course_ it is him! What other man is there in my life besides my father and my neighbors?"

And then he went on, the rant of the century being born from his porcelain, pink lips…All of the feelings came rushing out like warm water, dousing the only woman Roderich truly trusted in a form of truth that was so raw, it could burn if one was not used to the feverish heat of it. But Elizaveta was prepared; she listened with rapt attention, sometimes gaping, sometimes nodding, and even sometimes laughing at how silly her friend could be!

"And now, what am I to do?" Roderich finished with a flourish, and a huff of frustration; his feet had nearly tread into the grass so deeply, a rut had been metaphorically made.

"Do? Roderich, '_do'_? What do you think you must do? The answer is obvious!" Elizaveta stood to face the Edelstein, who gazed at her right there and then as if she had grown a second head and a third hand.

"Elizaveta, if you are suggesting I go through with my feelings, I demand you to tell me how! Counting for the facts that it is illegal and could result in my head being cut off, that I am engaged to you yourself, and that others would find out, including my own staff members!"

"Oh, Roddy, sweetheart, you are so simple-minded! And you worry too much!" The brunette lass gave a twirl of her dress, spinning in a circle until coming to face the male of twenty-seven years, her hands on dainty hips. "Do you not see? The answer is simple: You go for it."

"…Go…_Go_ _for it?" _

"Well, yes. Roderich, think about the facts instead of worrying. One," She held up a finger, "No one has to know. Simply put, you pursue a relationship with him behind the backs of your parents."

"Oh yes, that is _so_ simple-"

"It is! Roderich, you can be with him when your family is not around! They do not visit ever day, sometimes not even every week, sometimes barely once a month!"

The dark-haired male let out a scoff, "Alright, let us suppose that factor is taken care of. What do you suggest I do about the women who work for me?"

"Why would they care, Roderich? If they saw you kissing another man, they would do one of three things: Encourage it out of joy and care for their master, be neutral, lest they fear being fired, or speak out—and then be fired. And we both know that those women cannot afford to lose the jobs you have bestowed upon them, and they care about you and Gilbert. Why would they try to destroy you?"

"…" Silence echoed out on the estate grounds, in the solitude of the wooden area; Roderich crossed his arms, looking away, for what Elizaveta was saying was…true. And made sense. He could probably even ask his parents to not come some days, and lie—LIE—if he needed to…But…could he lie to his own flesh and blood about what he was doing? Could he lie and say he was spending time with the Hungarian while in fact he would be in bed with the Prussian?

"Roderich…How much longer do you want to be under their thumb?"

Amethyst eyes collided with emerald, and there was a solemn aura emanating so powerfully from Elizaveta, it made the male shiver.

"It is my duty to be 'under their thumb' as you so eloquently put it…"

"No, dear. I used to think that, too. I used to when Mother would make me do needlework hour upon hour, when I just really wanted to practice marksmanship with guns and bows. I used to believe that when my nurses would make me have tea, and etiquette lessons, and learn to dance properly, when I really just wanted to go outside and be one with nature. I was not born to be a debutante, a proper woman, or any of the sort, Roderich. I was born to be _me_."

"But what if I do not know who I am yet?" He was whispering now, desperation in his voice, "What if I am not meant to be with him, or destined to be a man like him, a man with other men?"

"Then you do it anyway. And when you realize the truth, you move on and try something else. Sadiq feels like the one—He really does. But if turns out I was completely wrong, then I pick up what is left of me and move on, in another direction. But my sweet Roderich, you cannot hold back any longer…You must do something to find out who you really are. Your true self is not just given to you by God or your parents."

"But…" A flicker of sadness crossed Roderich's face, "He is not…he is…"

"Not rich? A servant? Sadiq is a man from a country that people here consider the land of barbarians. And yet I am not afraid. And now you need to become strong. You have a chance here, and you know it—Now are you going to take it or not?"

"…" Pink lips were bitten, almost hard enough to cause a cut; but Roderich, realizing that everything the woman was telling him made sense, could only comply with a nod—Somewhere, a light was breaking through the clouds in his mind, and the clock chimed the midnight of Revelation. It was now or never. It was going to be a Hellfire of emotion; it was going to be full of lies, possibly to his parents, possibly to even Gilbert himself (Though that would try to be avoided at all costs—He could not stand the idea of lying to him); it was going to be full of hiding in the dark, pulling the albino in with him, and holding him close. They could even be killed, if the world found out. But what was life if you did not risk your neck once in a while? How much longer could he hide in the cold, icy safety of what they wanted, when what he wanted was a fire? He did not want ice—safe, comforting, sweet ice. He wanted fire. Burning, dangerous, erotic fire.

"I could lose everything, Elizaveta. Do you realize that?"

"So could I. But Roderich…Even if you do…"

"Yes?"

A pause, and a sweet smile, like that of the Virgin who comforted the weeping women who praised her, "You will at least still have him."

Purple orbs blinked in confusion, but the dawning of the truth shined on him, and Elizaveta was hugged with a strength he had never shown her.

"What if we both succeed, my dear Elizaveta? My dearest Lizzy, what then?"

A girly laugh came from the twenty-five year old lass, "Roderich, then? Then we run…Then we run away, and start over."

He could merely give a strained smile at that, "Elizaveta, you and your romantic notions…" For really, how could he run away from it all? How?

They parted shortly after, Roderich's heart too aflutter to concentrate on spending more time with the woman, and she could hardly blame him; with a little wave, he began to leave the grounds, until Elizaveta called out,

"Roderich! Wait!"

"Yes?" His head turned to gaze at the standing woman, who was still positioned by the tree they had been under for hours already.

"Remember the story of Cinderella as inspiration and hope for you!"

"…" A random statement it was, and it caused Roderich to look utterly confused, the most confused he had been all day.

"What I mean is…Cinderella overcame the life her evil family wanted for her! She became a princess! And also…"

A pause, and a dawning light came into the violet orbs; instantly, and surprisingly, Roderich felt his shoulders relax, as he muttered to himself,

"Even the lowliest servant can turn out to be a princess…Or a prince, in this case." He smiled to himself, finding the humor and commonality of the statement and his own life an interesting treat for the mind.

And thus, he retreated back into the carriage that had brought him, for Berwald had volunteered for his mistress to drive the Edelstein back and forth between homes…

It was a quiet ride, except inside Roderich's mind—there was bouncing joy, and bubbling excitement, in all the lobes of his brain. But he knew, deep down, that he would have to plan—he would have to plan his approach towards Gilbert perfectly. There would need to be solitude, just for the two of them. A romantic atmosphere was also needed, perhaps including flowers? A sunrise? A sunset? What did Gilbert like, when it came to romantic notions, anyway? He had little clue!

Morphing his fingers into a steeple, Roderich knew he had to be patient—in all his twenty-seven years of life, he would have to be the most patient, and also the slyest. For if he was to pull off any romantic chance with Gilbert, the first steps would have to be perfect. _Excruciatingly_ perfect—even more so because of how the brunette was as a person. Each detail would be looked over with the utmost care, each word he would say needed to be thought out, and placed in the best order possible.

So, he would take his time, for he was Roderich! He would, and could, wait a while if needed. He could wait longer if he needed to, if it would be better that way.

But, he was also an Edelstein—a member of a proud, nearly haughty, and somewhat demanding family-which meant one thing:

He could never truly wait _that_ long for anything.

* * *

And he did not have to wait long at all, and decided that he frankly did not want to. The chance could slip away if Roderich was not careful to act soon enough!

So only three days passed; three days of quieter words between himself and the albino, three days of busying himself with work, instead of focusing on human interactions. The work was better for the moment, anyway. The silence in the office gave him time to think, time to breath, and time to figure out what he was going to say—and how far he was going to go.

His fingers ached to touch the Beilschmidt in some way, and at some moments, Roderich would feel his lips tingle with anticipation; would a kiss work successfully to get the message across? Could he truly even kiss the twenty-three year old? He knew that, deep down, Gilbert would not kiss him first. He was a servant—a servant never made the first move, because of the fear of retribution that, normally, would result in one losing their job.

And although Roderich had never brought this subject up verbally, down in the kitchen, Gilbert was thinking along the same line, and of the same topic. For the past seventy-two hours, he too has wondered why his heart ached for Roderich's attention, why he would go to such loud lengths to acquire it. He could not get the image of the lidded-gaze of those violet orbs out of his 'awesome' and white-haired head, or how the Edelstein had whispered his name softly, and touched him with the utmost care.

He too was in the same shape as Roderich was, and he too was wondering why he desired him so fully and thoroughly. There was a new air between them, not one of violence, but an air Gilbert truly enjoyed. It was intoxicating, and it made him grin each time the elder was in the room with him; but when he left, it was merely a feeling of emptiness, as if something had gone missing and Gilbert would have done anything to get that something back.

He knew it was a form of desire—a form of passion that was stronger than a crush, yet not strong enough to be true love—not yet, anyway. But ideas like that made the albino turn the hue of a cherry and turn back to his chores with a huff. For really, why should someone as awesome and grand as him consider worrying over _love?_

So in a office, there was conflict, and everywhere Gilbert roamed, there was conflict in his own heart—but it all came to ahead on the evening of that third day-an interesting, yet volcanically passionate, head.

Roderich had spotted the younger male outside his bedroom window, said man venturing in the yard with Amadeus, walking around the stallion with curiosity that was…well…a bit cute, if the elder wished to be honest. And after that moment, Roderich's feet carried him down the stairs with the utmost silence and subtlety.

Once he had reached the back door, Gilbert's echoes and shouts could be heard; amethyst eyes spotted him now trying to ride the young horse, and Roderich could only smirk as Amadeus kept trotting away with a snobbish air; at one point, he did let Gilbert get onto his back, but the Beilschmidt soon found himself gently tossed off with a wag of the horse's rear, and he flopped onto the grass with a "YARGH!"

At the sight, Roderich could not help but laugh, and since he was now leaning against the back railing and was physically outside, his voice was heard by the paler male.

"H-Hey!" Gilbert huffed, "What are you doing out here?" There was a blush to his thin cheeks that Gilbert, in vain, tried to hide.

"Watching you fail completely, of course." Roderich replied cheekily, "Do you not realize he is too young to ride? Perhaps in a few months, you can at least get the saddle on his hind, or walk a few steps while you are atop him-"

"No way! I can't wait that long at all!" The younger dusted himself off, and climbed the porch steps, to come and stand next to the master of the estate, "Besides, he did let me sit on him."

"Oh, _yes_," came the sarcastic reply, and the scathing (yet somehow alluring) smirk, "For indeed, a few _seconds_ on top of Amadeus clearly counts. "

Gilbert merely snorted, "If it counts to me, it counts in general."

"Of _course_…" Roderich found himself letting out another amicable laugh as the servant came to stand even more next to him, close enough that if Gilbert took two more steps, their shoulders would touch.

A comfortable silence fell between them, Roderich turning his gaze out to the magnificently large pasture and yard, and to Amadeus who roamed easily amongst the grassy blades; Gilbert in turn was focused on gazing westward, for the large ball of fire above them in the sky was now cresting a hill, and fire painted the landscape and sky with orange hues and yellow tints and a red background conquered it all, and vanquished all of the blue that had been there.

"…Lovely evening, is it not?" It was Roderich who spoke next, in a timid voice, finding himself shy at the closeness, and blushing after he had glanced at the taller man, who shone in the fading sunlight in a luminescent way.

"Yeah…Ya don't get a sky like that back home, believe me." Gilbert's voice's classic roughness, that heavy city, Germanic accent, came out as he spoke, "All the smog and dirt."

"Ah, you…you do not have to convince me, I assure you. I have visited the city many times; many cities, in fact, not just London, and they are all the same."

"Really?"

"Mm, yes. It was why I did not hesitate to take this home in the countryside when my parents offered to myself. I wished for solitude, and cleanliness and I have achieved both. I only have one neighbor within walking distance, and trust me, we are not on good speaking terms. So, besides my own household, I have no one out in this part of the countryside. Even Elizaveta's home is a good journey by carriage, at least an hour's worth. And I can clearly say-…w-what?"

Roderich halted his speech, realizing that red orbs had been locked onto his face the entire time, and immediately, the Edelstein's face heated up.

"Huh? Nothin', I was just listening."

"B-But…You…" Immediately, nimble fingers wringed each other due to nerves, "You were…staring, oh, I must have been ranting, really, I must not do that-"

"Well, now you're babbling, and that's an entirely different thing."

"A-Ah…" Roderich found himself mentally curling into a ball of embarrassment, "Y-Yes…But…you were paying attention to me…? But…It just…You were doing it so avidly…"

Silver brows furrowed in confusion, and a pout appeared on Gilbert's face; without question, Roderich corrected himself, with,

"You were doing it with the utmost concentration…You were not distracted at all, is what I mean."

"U-Uh…Well…" Red eyes darted to the side, "I suppose…And I suppose I just…" The last few words that followed were mumbled, and the elder failed to hear them.

"…Just suppose, what?" The more feminine male lifted his chin and tilted his head, softly questioning the other.

"Uh…"

"Well…? Honestly, Gilbert, speak it. Do not make me command it, I-"

"I-I just…I just like to hear you talk, alright?" A little gruff huff came from the younger man, but it was not of anger, merely embarrassment, merely of pride; and it in turn, and along with the words spoken, made the shorter human flush brighter.

"…Really…Well…" Roderich cleared his throat not once, but twice, "I suppose I do indeed return the sentiment and can say I...enjoy hearing you speak as well."

"Mmhm."

They fell into silence again, after Gilbert had nodded along with his murmur of acquiescence; but this time, there was an edge to it that was uncomfortable, as if the volcano was about to burst and one of them, if not both, needed to step up and resolve it, and calm the impending firestorm to make it more stable, and livable...

Perhaps that was why Roderich's feet inched closer to Gilbert's, and his trembling hands gripped the wooden railing nearer to the other's, so their fingers were almost touching. There was a very, very tiny intake of breath from both men, as if they were about to pull off a painful bandage on an even more pained appendage.

"S-So…"

"Yeah?"

"Do…Do you enjoy…this place?"

A pause as Gilbert thought of how to respond, "Well, yeah, it's a wonderful house, and you're payin' me pretty well…I've already got the money saved up in a spot downstairs! And the maids are nice, and-"

"But…what about working for me…?"

_What about me…? What about me…?_

"You…? Ah…Well, yes, I do like working for you…" Gilbert knew there was more to the question, and that he needed to instill more honesty, "I…I really enjoy it…"

"How much do you enjoy it?" Roderich pressed closer, eyes locking onto Gilbert's in a heated gaze full of questions, full of wanting to know the truth; he was embarrassed, he was flushed, he was slightly shaking, but the voice in Roderich's head was saying only one thing:

_It is time…_

"…Ah…" Gilbert returned the embarrassed sentiments, and the color of apple on his cheeks as well, "I…Roderich, I…I really do like workin' for you…You make it exciting, I have fun in your house, and with you, and I know we fight a lot...But…But you make my days brighter than they were, brighter than they have been…I have so much awesome fun, really! And-"

Gilbert let out a gasp, for a finger came to be placed upon his thin lips and it halted his words; Roderich was standing right in front of him now, a thin arm stretched out before him; violet eyes were looking down, lidded with embarrassment, and the Edelstein topped it all off as he spoke softly,

"You really do talk too much, Beilschmidt…And you should know...I...If I can speak honestly, I do enjoy having you here…"

"Ah-"

"Shush…Let me finish." He pressed his finger a bit more firmly, and let a smile come to his porcelain face, "I love having you here, you moronic fool. So do not blow it."

Muffled, Gilbert tried to speak with, "W-Well, hey now, I-"

"Shush. I said I love having you here…Focus on that, okay?"

They were whispering now, bodies nearly touching, and neither noticed that the stallion in the yard was staring…

"Alright…Sure…" The words came out just as Roderich removed his finger from the lips they had been seated upon.

"Excellent…" The brunette would later wonder what made him this bold, but maybe it was the fact that he could not hold back any longer that had triggered his increase in bravery and bravado, and the push of adrenaline that coursed through his veins. Whatever the reason, a hand with no rings upon it, not even a marriage band despite the circumstances, and with smooth skin through daily rituals he would never be ashamed of partaking in, rested upon Gilbert's cheek, while the owner of said appendage gave a wistful smile.

"Ah…Roderich-?"

"Shush."

"Can you stop telling me to 'shush'?"

A tiny chuckle, as both blushed, "No. For you talk too much, too much for your own good."

There was a reply consisting of a snort, "And you talk too little for your own good. Seriously, most of the time, you just stare and stare and stare! Or huff! You don't actually speak! Don't you know how to express yourself?"

Roderich merely chose not to reply, and instead enveloped them both in silence; it was a minute or so, a terse, tense minute, before he spoke,

"So you wish for me to express myself?" His clear and pristine voice was still in a hushed whisper, and whereas Gilbert's had risen in his miniature rant, Roderich's had not changed at all. As well, Gilbert found himself having to lower his voice, for something in those words had stirred embarrassment, and his heartbeat was becoming faster in rhythm.

"Ah…Y-Yes…"

"Then I shall, and I will."

The Edelstein took an extra step, and now they were close, too close for decorum, for society's orders, for propriety…

"Then what are you waiting for?" He was smirking, damn him; Gilbert always knew how to challenge him with such ease, and it made Roderich's blood boil.

"I am waiting for you to shut up, if we are speaking honestly."

A bark of laughter, "You'll be waiting a long time, you know, that, right, you Prissy Bastard?" A chidlish nickname-but the brunette would be lying if he said he hated it.

"Oh, really?" A brown eyebrow arched up to the hairline, and fingers trailed down to the Beilschmidt's chin, tilting it just so; and in the back of Roderich's mind, he discerned that the younger male had shivered—and it was not a shiver of cold or fear.

"Really…"

"Or…Perhaps I am skilled enough to express myself and force you to be silent at the same time…"

He felt like a child again, smirking with glee, being a cheeky, bragging man, boasting that he could vest the other; and yet, Roderich never felt so grown up as he leaned in, tilting his head just a small amount, fingers gripping Gilbert's chin just a bit tighter.

"Maybe…Maybe you can…"

What the other words were, that they were thinking and possibly going to say, were swallowed up as Roderich dove in head first, pressing his lips to the other man's with the softest and most-unsure ease; both gasped, even the man who initiated it, and of course Gilbert could not help emitting the sound. He had known what Roderich was going to do, but actually feeling it was another matter all together…

Neither male moved for some time, and continued to leave their lips there, leave them touching in the softest embrace; Roderich, being of shorter height, raised himself with one foot going into the air, his ankle turning in a traditional romantic motion. And with that final movement, the elder found himself moving his lips with the slowest and most tender care he could muster, while fearing his inexperience showed.

But if it did, Gilbert hardly complained. A small murmur escaped his throat as ruby eyes became lidded, then fully closed in pleasure; Roderich's ears heard the noise, and his whole body gave a minute shake of joy, while his lips could only focus on the feel of the rough, chapped mouth of the other, and how it moved in time with his, and how Gilbert helped lead the kiss, while Roderich kept up the image of being the leader because of he having initiating it.

_He tastes likes spice and fire… _

The Edelstein's other hand was still on the landing, and it convulsed and twitched at the beautiful sensations and the unique taste of the twenty-three year old; but the appendage did not have to be in fear for long, because the taller male had a free hand touched his own, and as fingers twined, Roderich's body immediately relaxed.

He had kissed before—Roderich was an aristocrat, it was his duty to kiss a woman's hand, her cheek, and possibly even her lips. But this…this was a _real_ kiss…Not given out because of tradition, but because he wished for it to be given…He had never kissed another mortal's lips this deeply, with his much passion in it...

"Hah…" They were still connected in the same slow, elegant speed, but that noise had come from the brunette's mouth, and it was as if lightning was massaging his spine in the most pleasurable way; their hands were still twined as Roderich felt his stomach melt into a pool of lava—even more so when Gilbert's second hand rested behind his head, fingers tangling in his hair.

"Mmn…" And although Gilbert could not say it, the elder tasted like sweets—freshly baked cake, vanilla, and a dash of chocolate; and his presence was close enough that the scent of violet was discernable amid the smells of clean linens, male cologne (_Perhaps perfume? Hah!_) and aged books. He was not a poor kisser, Roderich; he was just juvenile in comparison but who really cared? Gilbert just found his body getting hotter at the idea that perhaps he was the other's first real kiss. And his locks were the softest he had ever felt; the albino knew his companion loved to keep his hair healthy and fresh, what with those obsessions concerning good looks and all…

Lips danced for some minutes, but neither was sure how long it truly was…Time had melted away, and they were in a hazy bubble of just themselves, their lips and bodies; this was not the time to speed up, or try too many new things, so the kiss was kept tame. Gilbert did, though, experiment with touch—his fingers danced down the back of Roderich's head, and ended up at the hair on his neck, as well as the skin. Both parts were caressed with a gentleness unusual for the Beilschmidt, and Roderich's knees began to buck, and a louder sound escaped his lips—a sound that was not proper whatsoever, a moan that could entrap them both in a tighter cage of lust and desire.

So when it was unleashed, that sound, Roderich gently pulled away, out of shyness, and fear of how far they both would go right here and right now if they continued; purple gems in Roderich's head were lidded, and the ruby ones in Gilbert's, once they opened to their full height, were darkened with an emotion that made Roderich want to cry out with desire, and cling to him further.

"Ah…I…" It was hard to discern the emotion in the taller man's face; was he unsure? Not trusting? Surely he had enjoyed the kiss, if his flushed face and eyes were any correct cues to go by…but…

"Gilbert…" Roderich worked up the courage to continue the statement he had begun, slowly drawing his hand away from the other on the railing, while subtly moving into the other hand near his neck, "I…"

"…" A hardened, serious expression flitted across the silver-haired man's face, but vanished before it could be fully questioned; a small smile replaced it, and Gilbert nodded, and stated, "I should head inside."

Roderich blinked, believing this was the rejection he had been fearing; but as he stared at the other, he realized, or hoped his realization was true, that was false—Gilbert merely needed time to figure out where they were, and if he could trust the other. It was not easy to see this, though, and the Edelstein was not completely confident, but he forced himself to nod in compliance as his servant went up the back steps and inside the minute mansion.

A little sigh came forth as the musician gripped a thin column that held up the roof above the porch; he had done what he could in his way of proposing a new, secret relationship with the other, and now it was up to the Beilschmidt. Whether Gilbert believed it had all been genuine or not was up in the air, and Roderich could only pray to a finicky God that barely existed in his life that it would all work out, and that he could move farther in this different life he wanted to carve out for himself.

At the idea that perhaps he had failed, that Gilbert did not desire him in that way, that he had maybe scared him off even as a friend, Roderich felt tears prickling his eyes, and he forced a hand, a hand still warm from Gilbert's own, to rub them away…

He had to stay positive…

But how could one be positive when he rarely had positive days at his home…?

And when he did, how could he be positive and optimistic when the one bright light may have been scared off into a cave of darkness for good…?

* * *

It had been hours of thinking, of running a rough hand through his hair; an hour of pacing, and of concern, but now when the clock struck eleven, Gilbert knew his answer:

This was real, and he wanted it.

At first, the servant had questioned Roderich's motives—a master kissing his servant? It was unheard of, except for those masters who wanted to pull their employees into a ploy, and use them, taking their emotions and ideas, and warping them. And it would end with the servant being thrown out into the streets, not a penny to his name, that name disgraced in lies and slander, while heartbreak ran amuck.

But the twenty-three year old could not forget the desire in Roderich's eyes as they had stood upon the back porch, the need and compassion held in those orbs; it _was_ all genuine, was it not…? Gilbert knew _his_ feelings were, of course—the smiles that Roderich caused him to show, the laughter he felt bubbling up each time he was 'lectured', and the desire that lithe, lean body brought to his member.

He could still feel the heat coursing through his veins as he entered the kitchen and whispered a few words to Mona, who was preparing their master's late-night warm tea treat; she merely nodded, with a questioning gaze, though, but left the room, leaving Gilbert alone to take the tea upstairs.

Secretly, too, he placed a small piece of paper on the tray, right under the saucer with a corner sticking up so Roderich would be able to see it even in the dim lights of his bedroom.

And with a sigh, the young male traveled up the stairs—and he knew that when he was to come back down, he would not be the same Gilbert Beilschmidt that he was at this moment…

* * *

"You may enter, Mona."

His voice was tired, and so were his hands—Gilbert had been out of his sight for hours, and Roderich now sat up in bed, reading the worn out copy of Austen's perfect romance novel with tired eyes—eyes that lit up once the bedroom door opened, for that was not Mona in the light of the hallway lamps.

"A-Ah…G-Gilbert..." His book fell to the side, as Roderich made to stand, but the youthful male came closer first, shaking his head,

"Hey, don't get up…" There was a smile on his face as he set the tray of tea down on Roderich's nightstand, located to the left of the Edelstein, and they were close enough to where one could reach out and kiss the cheek of the other.

"G-Gilbert, I-"

And then…Well, it really was quite unexpected, even though he should have seen it coming, but there it was…A finger upon his lips, rough with work, and smelling musky, but Roderich's heart rammed with joy at the expression the other had done.

"Shush…And drink your tea. And have a good night."

With that, the shaggy-haired servant stood straight, and gave another little bow to Roderich out of respect; before the master could reach out to the other, or ask another question, Gilbert was gone, the tea remaining at his side.

But his mood was entirely elevated, and completely changed; there had been a secret smile on Gilbert's face that spoke far better than any sentence could—and Roderich knew the absolute truth now. That Gilbert did want this, that he wanted him dearly, that the kiss had been his and Roderich's alone, and no scalding, dark feelings were lurking between them. Their eyes had connected when Gilbert had been the room and the connection was what had ensnared them both into this new relationship completely…

Happily, he moved to take the tea cup into his hands, heart alight, and desiring the albino even then; but, a sight caught his eye, and his hand halted…

A note rested there, white and pristine, begging to be read…

Roderich chuckled lightly to himself; oh, that sneaky Prussian! Perhaps he had taken tips from the romance authors Roderich read, and had left him a love note? How foolish, how feminine…and yet how it made the Edelstein's beating organ of blood stir!

It was indeed a note of love, in a way…a note that helped Roderich sleep that night, and run to Gilbert's side come morn, where they were to kiss out in the barn in secret, and begin to plan their new interactions with one another…

Life was just beginning for both of them…There was to be drama, problems, and heartache as well, but in the end, life was theirs to keep, and make and fix…Love would bloom between them, in a confession in the dark of the Edelstein's bedroom, between the covers and sweaty skins…Between kisses hidden from maids, and some not-so-hidden from maids…

And it all was to begin with a few simple words, scrawled in messy handwriting…

_I enjoyed the kiss, and I am here when you want me. _

_By the way, I love being here too._

* * *

_"In vain have I struggled, it will not do. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you."_

- Mr. Darcy, of Pride and Prejudice

* * *

A/N: I bet that end quote gives you a guess as to what Roderich was reading at the end ;) In the story, Austen's novel is only about 30 years old! Imagine that!

Anyway, people, do NOT freak out-I'm certainly not ending the story here! You all want the rest, right? Haha! There is so much more to come: sex scenes, real love confessions, and even a few fights or two. We get to meet Roderich's neighbor (I bet you can guess who it is!), see his parents again; we'll see Mei find her brother, and Natalia find a little romance for herself. And our favorite French pervert is going to be stopping by to bug his little sister Mona (And maybe bring a Canadian friend? :D). And we've still got Arthur working at the docks-with possibly Alfred there too? And besides, you want to really know how two gay men can be happy together in Victorian times, yes?

So stay tuned! You'll see that this is the end of Part I, and Part II starts next! Thanks for reading, and I'll talk to you all soon!


	11. Part Two: Visitation

A/N: And welcome all! We are officially at Part II of 'The Sonata of Servitude'!

And we begin with some lovely "Summer Lovin'", ahah! In other words, a short time skip, about two-to-three weeks, but don't worry, Gilbert will fill you in. There's going to be heated passion, but sorry kiddies—No one's getting naked this time around, but maybe next chapter? ;) Don't worry; I won't keep you waiting that long in that department.

We have some new characters coming forth and making themselves known this time around; some old 'friends' of Roderich's come by and Gilbert's going to have to watch himself.

But, no more telling about what's going to happen, you can just read it! Thanks for continuing with the story and with all of the reviews, I really appreciate them!

Song Inspiration:

"Eyes" by Kaskade featuring Mindy Gledhill

"Your Guardian Angel", by The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus

"All the Lovers" by Kylie Minogue

"I Just Call You Mine", by Martina McBride

* * *

11

Visitation

* * *

_"__When he was present she had no eyes for anyone else. Everything he did was right. Everything he said was clever. If their evenings at the Park were concluded with cards, he cheated himself and all the rest of the party to get her a good hand. If dancing formed the amusement of the night, they were partners for half the time; and when obliged to separate for a couple of dances, were careful to stand together, and scarcely spoke a word to anybody else. Such conduct made them, of course, most exceedingly laughed at; __**but ridicule could not shame, and seemed hardly to provoke them**__."_

_-From 'Sense and Sensibility', Chapter 11_

* * *

**June, of 1841**

It was amazing what the summer brought to the world; Gilbert had never appreciated the bright colors, the bluest sky to ever exist, or the scents of warm dirt and earth, and how things felt more free—and that the world itself felt more warm.

Warmth. It was everywhere in his life beginning in June, and throughout the last two weeks of May, and if he was to ever be asked of the cause, his ego would perk up and say that it was all _his_ doing, that the sun shone brighter and hotter because of his 'awesome', and that life was the way it was because of him. Him, him, it was all about him—or that was what he would say if _you_ asked him.

But others? Close to him?

The answer was then different. The answer was Roderich.

It was Roderich, who had initiated that kiss weeks ago, that brought the relaxing warmth; perhaps Gilbert was partially a reason for the life-changes, but it was his master who had brought them to a strength unprecedented.

For, it was the Edelstein that would come to the taller male in secret, and gently press him against the house's walls and kiss him softly, while the maids were away with blind eyes; the brunette would whimper into each kiss; sometimes with Roderich ending up being more nervous that he had realized, which thus caused shakes and fidgeting to come forth. But he would prevail each time, hands cupping Gilbert's cheeks, caressing the rough skin underneath, as his kisses turned shyly and sweet. Roderich did not express carnal desires this way, not out in the open during the day, at least; and in general, he was softer, gentler with his kisses, worrying that he was not doing it properly, and that he was not good enough—and each time during the kiss, Gilbert would whisper words that helped the other realize that he was a perfect kisser, that he enjoyed this sensual, cotton-coated kissing.

And each of those kisses ended with a phrase that made Gilbert's heart melt: "I needed that." "I wanted that." "D-Did you…like that?"

The Beilschmidt would then reply appropriately, often pulling the elder closer, and giving him a kiss in return, and Roderich never resisted; red eyes always suck up the image of the leaner male turning into gelatin, and Gilbert sometimes wondered if Roderich merely initiated the kisses just to get one in return and sink into the Beilschmidt's body, with a bit of a begging and pleading atmosphere. Or perhaps it was both—he loved receiving them, but Roderich also wanted to give them because the other had brought out the monster, the animal, within him.

But there were not just kisses now—there was more. The twenty-seven year old would invite his servant to relax in the library between bouts of work and chores, and they would sit some feet apart, just talking. Talking, nothing more (at least most of the time); Gilbert truthfully did not have a problem with that, because not only did he love Roderich's attention, he loved talking; he always had. Complaints would come, and then stories, fascinating stories of his life outside the Edelstein estate—of course, Gilbert thought they were _boring_ stories, but the other did not seem to mind, and he apparently felt the opposite, if his surprised and enthralled expressions were giving away anything. Violet eyes would just locked onto Gilbert while he spoke, the talking going on sometimes for minutes, maybe even an hour or two, on end. One time, very early in this situation, Gilbert questioned the other in his staring, with,

"…What is it? Why ya starin'?"

There had been a wistful smile on Roderich's face that afternoon, and he merely let out a soft sight, speaking with, "It is nothing, Gilbert. Just keep going." A lazy, dainty hand waved, "Go on, I want to know more."

"I'm not boring you, am I?"

And Roderich had let out a tiny chuckle, and ended the discussion with one word, "Hardly."

From that day on, they had continued to talk in the library, with the Edelstein once in a while discussing his own private life, his own affairs—how his parents kept sending him worrying letters, and how his maids were a bunch of giggling and gossiping biddies, but they were at least tolerable. Sometimes Roderich even mentioned how he would love to travel, escape England…

"Sometimes I miss my homeland…Vienna was so much different than this; I was young when we came here, and left there, so I do not remember every single detail, but, I remember enough to want to go back."

Gilbert merely shrugged, "I wouldn't know what it's like."

A lip was bitten, and the Edelstein stood, to come and seat himself next to the other on the window-seat, "Yes, I know…I think you would have enjoyed the city; bustling, busy, but without many of London's faults. Less dirt, less dust, and we did not have to deal with rambunctious shipyards and dealers."

Their hands touched, and the silver-haired male nodded, giving the elder a little smile, "You can tell me more…"

And Roderich would. The window-seat in the library's center became another intimate spot for the both of them, and the brunette would weave tales of his homeland—when they were not busy holding one another, and doing more than that, even.

For although the majority of their time in the library was spent in speech, other times, it was spent kissing; Roderich was greatly comfortable to do so in that setting, what with the doors closed to his private sanctuary of books and business. Their legs would tangle up, the richer man leaning in to twine his arms around the stronger one's neck, pressing his chest and torso as close as he could, mewling against Gilbert's lips with a desire that made them both shiver.

Again, though, these kisses were chaste—lovingly, but powerful. Desiring, but tame all the same. Gilbert did not complain though, he still enjoyed them, he still wanted them.

But there was another time that Gilbert truly loved, and appreciated—nighttime.

It was at least five times a week, sometimes four or three if Roderich had important business to attend to that week, that it occurred, and the Beilschmidt knew when it was meant to be by the Edelstein approaching him when he was alone, finishing up the last nightly chores consisting of fixing up a room, or sweeping the porch. A hand would rest on Gilbert's hip, and whispered words came out,

"Come upstairs tonight. Please."

It was the command that always sent shivers up the twenty-three year old's spine; the cue to come sleep in Roderich's bed.

And they did indeed sleep, but not before passionately showing emotion to one another; do not think there was actual fornication, for there was not—not yet, anyway. The servant knew his master was afraid to partake in such an action at this point in their relationship, and though Gilbert was needy, and could not help but dream of said encounter as he slept, he would not push Roderich. He would not whine or beg or plead, because the violet-eyed male would probably turn him away completely then, and although he was a bit of an idiot, Gilbert was not stupid enough to insist on a course of action that would hinder their future completely.

Besides, Roderich's desire before they slept was enough to sate Gilbert's taste for it all; he would arrive clad in pajamas, the Edelstein as well, sitting up in bed, possibly with a book, or a sheet of music composition he was working on; whatever it was, the object was placed aside as the servant would stride to the side of the bed, allowing Roderich to grip the front of his shirt, pulling him into the bed with a heated joining of lips, hot enough to cause them both to let out moans.

It was Gilbert's cue to be more animalistic, to show more desire that was allowed during the day; Roderich would move the other's head towards his neck, allowing Gilbert to pepper the lean, snowy skin with kisses that left small marks, and to use his teeth in ways that made Roderich's lower body shake.

"Ah…Gilbert…Ooh, right there…" Roderich's eyes would roll back, lying back with abandon as his partner would make him feel treasured and pleasured; harder bites would come forth, and the Edelstein would suck in breaths filled with pleasure, "Hah…Wow…"

Gilbert was a perfect detective at these moments—it was easy to find out where Roderich wanted harsher treatment, or softer, subtle moves; his neck was a prime target for the former, his face the latter, except for a small beauty mark on his left cheek that the Beilschmidt always found alluring—that apparently enjoyed anything and everything, and would cause Roderich to let out a shout, and his arousal was instantly fulfilled.

At some moments, Roderich would demand the other shed his shirt (he himself never became naked in front of Gilbert, not even half-way, due to nerves—sometimes Gilbert could undo a few buttons, but that was a rarity in itself); he would then merely stare at the lean Prussian, caressing his chest with a dazed face of admiration, and a face the color of his red-rose-garden standing out even in the darkened room; he would pull the other down into a heated kiss, just that one kiss, and a joining of souls was born.

Whether it was the neck, the chest, or the face, or just two lips together, it would all eventually stop—Roderich's arousal would reach full peak, and Gilbert would feel 'something' poke against his thigh, causing them to break apart their romantic rendezvous.

"Ah…O-Oh…" Roderich would flush even more, biting his lip; there was a sadness shining in his eyes as Gilbert climbed off of him, each time whispering,

"Do you want me to help you with that?"

"_N-Nein_…" And the elder would merely slip out of bed, into his private bath, to take care of his 'business' by himself, a fact that they both dreaded; Gilbert, after years of control, would mentally dissipate his own arousal, but would always cringe as he would let it slip away. They were so close, and yet so scared to take that final plunge. Gilbert would merely lie back and wait for his partner, his 'lover-of-sorts', and they would end the night in each other's arms, the brunette leaning up each time, silently asking for a kiss, a kiss that stated 'Will you be here tomorrow night?' and 'Forgive me, I am not ready…'

And each time, the kiss was answered sweetly, and with an 'I understand...' and 'Yes.'

On the nights when there was less passion, and more intimacy, they would talk, the Austrian snuggled deep into the crook of Gilbert's arm, a hand on his (sometimes bare) chest, where small white hairs curled and sprouted.

It was on the present night , after weeks of the same behavior coming forth, the same wonderful, blissful behavior, that Roderich finally brought up a bit of an awkward subject.

"Gilbert…I…I want to ask you something."

"Eh? Sure, shoot."

A pause came out, then, "Have you…ever copulated with another person before?"

Immediately, Gilbert replied with a blank stare, his brain trying to remember what 'copulated' meant; he had heard it before, he was sure Arthur had said it the past, but…

"Sex, dear. I am asking if you…" Roderich bit his lip, "If you have ever…fornicated…had sex…before…" With each passing word, his voice had grown tinier, thinner, and much, much shyer; purple eyes gazed off to the side, daring not to look at the other, his 'lover-of-sorts'.

"Y-Yeah…Yeah, I have. A few times." Gilbert was far from a whore, but he was also far from a virgin; he could count the number of times he had had sex on his two hands and a good deal of them with the male and female whores who were just as bored as he has been, but the names of said people were a distant memory. He had never had the time for such a thing the majority of his life, due to having to take care of his brother when they were of a younger age; then came trying to get jobs, and then came just being _lazy_…Sex with people he had no interest in was absolutely _boring_; they were just passing flings, men who left little impression on his life. Plus, they had not been the best in bed, either.

And here, lying next to him, was a snow-white male who barely knew the touch of a woman, let alone a man.

Oh yes, he knew Roderich was a virgin—he had known that from day one, just from how the Edelstein acted; someone of his caliber, of his propriety, could not be anything but a virgin.

"Oh…"

"So you…?" It did not hurt to ask, out of politeness, but Gilbert already knew the answer.

"What? N-Not in the least." A frown crept up onto the master's face, "I may be engaged to a woman, Gilbert, but I have not even touched womanly flesh. It is the rule here; no consummation until marriage."

"…But that only applies with women, right?"

"…"

There was silence, and the Beilschmidt wondered if he had poked a hole in the decently-docile atmosphere that had been around them for the entire night; now that the awkward subject had been breached further, would there be an eruption from one party or another? Did danger exist in the future between them?

But whatever fears Gilbert had been festering in his mind were dissipated when Roderich merely gazed up into his eyes, a ghost of a smile sitting on his lips, and he merely snuggled his body against the taller male's in silent appreciation and calmness.

And that, really, was that. No more words were spoken that night because they were not needed; Roderich had affirmed Gilbert's question with the sweetest, simplest gesture he could muster, and in that intimate position did they slumber, the brunette's cheek pressed against the pale one's chest, hands curled up like a slumbering babe's, while an arm was securely attached around his shoulders.

And with each night that Gilbert slept at his master's side came the following morn, and they awoke with congenial greetings, perhaps a kiss or two, but otherwise professional; only this morning, after Roderich had dressed (with the twenty-three year old facing a wall—despite the intimacy, the Edelstein was a stickler for privacy and suffered embarrassment all the same), he returned to his partner's side, placing a hand on Gilbert's collarbone, that then wound a path up his neck, to where it ended up cradling Gilbert's head. That in turn was brought close, so the tips of his fine, silver hair grazed the rich one's cheek.

"P-Perhaps…this afternoon…we can practice your violin, yes?" It was a soft whisper, almost hesitant and certainly stutter-filled, but Roderich continued, despite the obvious pink tint to his cheeks, "A-And I can save some of my own dinner for you tonight, so you do not have to e-eat just leftovers, and tonight, I want you here, y-you can return to my bed, and…"

"Roderich…" Gilbert returned, after the other male had trailed off nervously, "You don't have to worry so much when it comes to me…You don't have to try so hard…"

Ears pink like candy floss, Roderich's sheepish grin made him seem all the more adorable; his words to follow Gilbert's, though, were serious in manner,

"I must try hard for everyone, Gilbert; I must try hard to please my parents, firstly. Then work hard and try hard at the business. Then of course I must try hard to make sure the servants and maids have an appropriate schedule, one that makes sure the majority of work is accomplished…" A pause, then, "And then there is you. I must try hard to make sure you are happy. To make sure you are happy to be here, Gilbert…"

"But you don't have to try _that_ hard…I'm easily satisfied!" The albino exclaimed, a grin on his face, mostly hoping to relieve Roderich of the previously-stated ridiculous fears. And it was mostly true-for years, Gilbert had been just happy to have a cold beer, a warm bed, and a friend by his side. He had had more in the past, and had thought otherwise in the past, but now...? Now he just wanted what he could have.

"Are you?" Roderich hid a dainty chuckle behind his hand, "Then you are the only man in my life that is."

One final kiss, and one final glance back into the bedroom, initiated by Gilbert, sealed off the romantic rendezvous for the time being; both men dressed, and went about their separate ways. The Beilschmidt confirmed that he did wish for time with the violin and his tutor this afternoon, and so it was thus planned.

But plans do not always go the way they should…

Sometimes, they end up being a horrible mess.

Other times…Though the unexpected results, the true end is extremely worthwhile…

* * *

Such an end came about when, true to his word, Roderich put down his work at one-thirty in the afternoon, the papers on the quantity of pianos that had been created and shipped out in the past month boring the aristocrat eventually to no end. For a moment, he gazed longingly at the musical composition he had been working on for the past week—It sat sadly on the side table in his study, aching to be finished and eventually played. How he wished he could just quit this dreaded business and be 'married' to a more profitable and enjoyable job instead! He had never had a head for numbers, figures, and profit; it was not that he was unintelligent in those matters, but there were just more important matters in his mind—music. Art. Perfectly brewed tea.

…Gilbert.

Oh, if only he could finish the composition for Gilbert…His heart swelled at the idea of his partner playing _his_ music on the violin; he could nearly see it in his mind now! How Gilbert would unleash the musical notes into the front parlor and living room, and how Roderich would swoon into his arms once the last note rang out, and then he would profess—

The brunette shook his head; this was not a time to be fantasizing. Especially when the other male in said fantasy was waiting for him.

Without another thought or word, the Edelstein stood, leaving the office, and stopping in the music room to snatch up the precious Stradivarius before rerouting his footsteps towards the back of the home; Gilbert should be working in the garden, perhaps? Or was he in the barn? Either way, that was his first destination in mind, and to make sure steps would be saved, he called out,

"Gilbert? Gilbert, I am ready to practice the violin if you are able-"

But the statement never finished—a knock on the front door rang out loudly, firmly, and, even, a tad angrily.

"Ah…?" Roderich was not expecting guests; there were no business meetings to be held today, his parents would not drop by for a visit until possibly the weekend, and all of the maids were present and had house-keys for emergencies, so who could be rapping at his door?

Another knock came, this time a-pounding, and with the women of the home busy with their duties, and Gilbert not nearby, the twenty-seven year old let out a languid sigh, setting down the instrument on a wooden table near the front door, hands hastily opening the door…

And immediately, part of Roderich's heart caved—because with this guest at his front door, the day was not going to go well at all.

* * *

"Gilbert? Gilbert, I am ready to practice the violin if you are able-"

The silver-haired male, had, in fact, not been outside—Gilbert had slid up to the third-floor washroom, to clean that first instead; but his ears gave a delighted wiggle when he heard the call of his lover, for it was break time.

"KAY!" He cried out in return, but there was no response from the shorter male to his exclamation; and now that he thought about it, as he tossed the sponge and water bucket aside, Roderich had not even finished his statement prior. Odd.

Nevertheless, he descended the stairs as fast as possible, eager to begin his training, and to hold the other male's hands, when he heard a shout-a very loud shout.

"We ARE discussing this now, Roderich!" It was a male's voice, angry, with a thick accent from a foreign country Gilbert could not name, "My family business is in cooperation with yours, and I need you to provide funds and a building so we can open another gun shop AND so we can keep producing more!"

"Vash, I am not in the mood for this. You just…You just showed up here, demanding things from me, when I have considered taking the rest of the afternoon off! How dare you demand monetary values from me when you just invite yourself over without even sending a letter or a driver or servant to my estate to ask permission!"

"I should not have to ask for permission from you, Edelstein! You owe me after we helped your family out last year—Do you know what my family's gun company does to your companies? It makes their revenue stronger! And your family earns a share of OUR cuts, when we do NOT need your help in my eyes. But I have to take money from you, and give you money, and-"

The shouting became louder, and Gilbert, like any sneaky assassin from romantic novels, came to rest at the top of the stairs that fell towards the first floor—from his position, he could make out the back of Roderich's head, and the heads of the two others at the door.

The boisterous male shouting at the Edelstein was short blonde, but the fury in his emerald eyes was scathing; a white hat sat upon his head, a green pea-coat of sorts donning his body, but was most intimidating was the rifle strapped to his back; why Roderich would let a gun-toting, chicken-haired loon anywhere near him was beyond the servant's comprehension.

But the second person was a much better sight, for she carried neither a gun, nor malice; instead, she wore a sad, somewhat sympathetic smile, a blue ribbon tied into her hair, and a pink dress that descended all the way unto her ankles. Her eyes and hair matched the male's, but her demeanor was the other's antithesis.

"B-Brother," The girl spoke up, "Perhaps we should leave Mister Roderich alone…If he already had plans and such-"

"Lili, I am NOT leaving without the money he owes us! Besides, he and I need to talk. I am not going to wait to discuss business matters—I am here now, and so is he, so let's do it now!"

"For your information, Vash, my life does not revolve around making you richer." A roll of purple eyes caused metaphorical steam to come out of the blond male's ears. It also caused Gilbert to let out a classic 'kesese' giggle of glee at the rude one's irritation—but that was a mistake.

For this Vash must have had amazing hearing; he certainly had amazing reflexes, because before Roderich could let out another syllable, the blond moved his hands around with lightning-speed, grabbing the gun, cocking it, and pointing it right at Gilbert's paler-than-normal face.

"INTRUDER! SHOW YOURSELF!"

The motions that followed the shriek of anger happened so fast. Gilbert let out a scream, standing up fully; Roderich whipped around, at first towards his lover, and then towards his guest, shouting,

"VASH, you incompetent buffoon, put that away before you kill someone!"

Lili, meanwhile, cowered in fear, knees on the floor, having fallen due to shock, and one of her hands was tugging on her brother's coat, repeatedly shouting, "STOP, brother! STOP IT!"

"I'm just a servant, I swear! And I BELONG here!"

"You ignorant barbarian, HOW DARE YOU point a gun at someone in my house!"

"YOU BASTARD, HOW DARE YOU SPY ON OUR CONVERSATION!"

"STOP, Please!"

And so it went—confusion and quarrels for some minutes, three of the persons involved assuming Vash was going to shoot something or someone and that it was an eventuality; all the while, Gilbert had learned a very important lesson:

Never sneak up on a chicken-haired manic, a maniac that squaks like a raven, when he has a gun.

* * *

How it had broken up was a mystery; but here the four of them were on the back porch, Gilbert serving them tea, while Roderich and his (uninvited) guests were seated upon the painted-white chairs of wood origin. The biscuits were warm, and Lili was happily munching away at one in silent contemplation; Vash, meanwhile, only sat with his arms crossed, glaring at the tea as if it was a suspect in a crime, and if he stared at it hard enough, it would confess to murder.

"Thank you, Gilbert." Roderich's cup was filled last, and his voice was extremely tired, and softer than normal; Gilbert merely nodded, and began to leave the backyard when the Edelstein found his hand moving without a second thought to grasp the taller one's wrist,

"No, please, stay and join us…I would like you here…" He tried to hide the blush, but it was hard due to Vash's scrutiny—his green eyes had immediately darted up from the tea to Roderich, and his scowl deepened; but inside, the brunette hardly cared. He could not stand to be alone with the man (save for Lili, but did she really count? She was his sibiling, after all..), not right now, and as he gazed upon Gilbert, violet eyes silently pleaded: _Stay with me, do not leave me alone_…

Ruby orbs, having been shocked at first, lessened in that emotion, and merely smiled while a lean head nodded; Gilbert took his place next to Roderich, and almost immediately, two hands met under the table, to give each other a squeeze of comfort.

"Hmph. A servant drinking with his master? What kind of house are you running here, Roderich?"

Said master scowled at the derisive comment, "I could say the same for you. What man points a gun at a servant who is merely doing his job? Do you run your home in the same manner? Pointing guns at men and women?"

"He was _spying_—Do you hire spies, Roderich?"

"He was cleaning the stairwell, you fool." Roderich knew that was a lie, and that Gilbert had been spying, but he hardly blamed him. He too would have been curious hearing Vash's angry shouts, and Gilbert was known for being sneaky.

"W-Well…Well…So says him! A-And why did you hire a male servant, anyway? You have always had girls!"

"And?" The brunette casually sipped his tea, his hand underneath the table moving to rub gingerly at the twenty-three year old's knee, and he continued his statement thus, "Your point is what, Vash?"

A huff, "Nothing. I…I just find it suspicious you are all cozy with a male servant, is all! And I just think it is suspicious you suddenly hire one, too."

"I did not hire him," Roderich corrected the other, "My parents did. I am keeping him, though."

"Hm. Well, fine! Do what you want, then!" Vash waved a dismissive hand, but Gilbert easily spotted a tinge of red on the male's face, "But you cannot blame me for pointing a gun at him. He surprised me! I feared he would have hurt my sister, hmph!"

The Edelstein snorted, while Gilbert let out a "Hey!"

"Do you honestly think Gilbert, of all people, would hurt your sister? And in all honesty, when are you going to get tired of carrying a gun around, hm? My staff and I would much appreciate it if you broke that ungodly habit."

"You may call it ungodly," Vash retorted, "I call it precaution. I do not want a single hand to be laid upon Lili! And I do not trust people in this country—especially servants _you_ hire."

There was a wince from Roderich, but here merely shook his head and murmured, "Then why do you not return to Switzerland, yes? If you have so little trust in the men of this country, and the people I associate with."

"Well-"

"Yeah, we would _all_ appreciate it! I mean really, who points a rifle at _this_ face!" Gilbert interrupted, much to the Swiss' chagrin, "Seriously, do I look like a murderer? Like I violate women's bodies? I'm _awesome_, not a criminal! Find a better suspect next time, heh."

The banter made the young lass at the table giggle, and even Roderich could not hold back a smile and a roll of violet orbs; Vash, on the other hand, was far from amused,

"Excuse me? _You_ are talking to _me_ in that fashion? Do you know who I _AM_?"

"…No? Should I?"

Vash, red in the face, merely gave a hiss and sipped his tea, measuring up all of the spite and anger he could muster.

"I will explain later, Gilbert." Came the soft whisper from Roderich; leaning in close enough, lips had grazed Gilbert's ear, and it took a great deal of inner strength to stop a shiver.

"Ah…" A nod and then silence followed between the odd quartet of three men and lone woman. Lili spoke up after some time, politely asking how Roderich was, how he had been and how Elizaveta was, and responses were dutifully given. Vash, on the other hand, could not help but continually glare at Gilbert, who felt extremely unnerved. Sure, he had snuck up on him, but any normal person would let that go, yes? So why the hostility? Was there something more…?

Perhaps…Vash held some sort of animosity towards Gilbert because he was Roderich's servant? He had been aghast at the thought of the Edelstein having a male servant in the home…Did he know of Roderich's sexual preferences? The Beilschmidt doubted it, for he probably would have shot Roderich if that was the case, or made his life living Hell…Then what was it?

Was Vash _jealous_ because he _himself_ was…?

That idea seemed less ridiculous the more Gilbert thought about it—And it stirred something dark inside him.

"Well, Roderich?" The albino was snapped from his deep contemplation by the blond Swiss, "Do I get my money today or not?"

A sigh, "Fine, I shall make sure one of my ladies brings it to you this afternoon-"

"NO. I am leaving with it, Roderich. I do not want any of your…servants…" He cast a sour glance at Gil, who happily returned the gesture, "bringing me any money. I will take it for myself. And I need to discuss matters with you on another shop."

"Fine, fine." Another tired sigh, and violet eyes trailed to Gilbert, "Gilbert, do you mind leaving us alone for awhile? If you can entertain Lili, I would appreciate it."

"WHAT? No way is that…that _red-eyed freak_ stepping one inch near my sister-"

It seemed Roderich, known for remaining calm (Except in Gilbert's presence), even had his own limits with others; at that remark on the Beilschmidt's looks, the aristocrat glared at Vash, hissing out in the iciest tones possible, "You will do well to not insult the man next to me. He is a dutiful servant, and I will say this: If you wish to leave with your money, you will let him accompany your sister in my garden. _Is that clear?_"

"…" A nod, and consent was given.

Lili hopped down from her chair just as Gilbert stood, and to the male's surprise, the little lass took his hand, happily chirping, "Come along, Mister Gilbert, I want to see the roses!"

He had to admit, the girl was quite cute, for being related to the monster left with Roderich; but, to Gilbert's surprise, he found out they were not related, just as Lili went to sniff a rose.

"My step-brother can be quite rude sometimes, I am very sorry." Lili even gave a curtsey, eventually standing to give the man a smile, "He means well, but he is very overprotective of me. I am already fourteen, I do not need that much protection! In fact, other girls my age are already off getting married, but my brother will not let that happen, oh no."

"Did you stay step-brother?" A tilt of his head, and widening eyes, gave away Gilbert's confusion, "Or is he your brother?"

Lili walked on ahead, not bothering to answer yet—the garden, the magnificent garden blossoming with yellows and purples and reds in the summertime heat, was a welcome sight after all the dramaturgies that had occurred beforehand; rows and rows of elegant flowers stretched out on the back of the estate grounds, with mazes of hedges springing up often. One night, when they had been lying in bed, Roderich idiotically confessed that he would get lost often in his garden, unless another person walked with him and accompanied him. His lover-of-sorts had laughed, while the Edelstein had ended up hiding his face in Gilbert's warm chest, violet-orbs closed in embarrassment.

But now, out here, he could see why Roderich, who already had a poor sense of direction, could get lost. But he would make sure to take Roderich out here eventually, on a romantic 'trip' of sorts—After all, if he had to guide the brunette back to the home, that would make him a chivalrous knight, yes?

The little blonde girl eventually stopped, and finally turned towards Gilbert, "Yes, he is my step-brother, but I just use 'brother', because it is so much easier, and it is true! Vash rescued me, actually." Her dainty fingers caresses a white lily, "His parents died when he was sixteen, and one day, back home in Switzerland, he found me abandoned on the streets! I was only eight, then. I remember…I remember it being so cold…" Her green eyes trailed to the cloudless sky, "Dark and rainy and cold…But before I knew it, Vash had me in his arms, and took me to his home, and we became a family!"

"So how did you get to England?"

"Oh, my brother saved up lots of money; you see, his parents back home were famous for making guns. Any kind of gun you can imagine! Even today, my big brother's guns are still famous, but back then, they were even _more_ well known! They had so many factories and such; we stayed there for awhile, until my brother heard that Mister Roderich had moved here to England, so he followed! And we set up shop here, and…well…" Lili's shoulders slumped a tad, "If they got along better, I would be much happier! But it is alright, my brother makes a lot of money thanks to Mister Roderich. We are happy, mostly."

"Ah…" A slow nod, as Gilbert took in the story as best as he could, "Yeah, that makes sense…"

"How did you come to England, Mister Gilbert? You are speaking with a Germanic accent, no?"

"Ah-…Y-Yes…But it's a really long story as to how I got here…Let's just say my family from Prussia and the German states moved here…"

"Oh, alright!" Lili happily smiled and moved on to the next batch of flowers, while Gilbert could not help but look back, and worry about Roderich—shouts could be heard. Angry shouts.

"Lili…How does Ro-…Er…Master Edelstein know your brother?"

"Hmm?" The girl had picked up a daffodil, holding it close, "Oh, they were friends back home in Europe! When Mister Roderich lived in Austria, my brother's family would often visit until big-brother's parents died! They used to be close friends, very good friends. They were inseparable!"

"…Until what?"

The child frowned, "Until Mister Roderich said that he no longer wished to associate with Vash. They had a big fight, and Mister Roderich disapproved of how anxious my brother was to work with guns…He also said that Vash thought very badly of him, which I think was true, too…My brother used to complain about how stingy Mister Roderich was, and how he was greedy and...um…'uppity'! Yes, that is the word. But my brother said Mister Roderich thought bad of him, which I also say to be true, too. They thought bad of each other, and that was wrong! Very wrong! Friends like that should not fight, but…" A sigh, and, "Either way, after that fight, my brother's parents died, so he had no money or reason to visit Mister Roderich. But when he heard that he had moved, he saw it as a great opportunity to rebuild their friendship!"

"…Oh?"

"Yes! Well, no." Lili shrugged, "_I_ think that was why he moved us to England, but _he_ says he only wanted to see Roderich to get money his family owed him, and to use him as a business partner, just like our parents had done. But I think he really, really cares! And still likes Mister Roderich! They were such good friends! It was a special kind of love!"

At that, Gilbert's heart panged—love?

Had Vash followed Roderich all the way to England for…a reason other than money? Did he really care about the Edelstein boy? _Really_ cared, like Gilbert did?

"Mister Gilbert? You look ill…Are you alright?" Lili's ribbon blew in the breeze, her face full of sadness and worry.

"I'm fine, dear. Go on and pick some more flowers, I'll…I'll be right here."

She nodded, and went on her way to gaze and touch, and pick, more flowers, while the albino male lagged behind, worry in his heart; this man had close ties to Roderich—he knew of his past, of his childhood. So what did Gilbert know?

Very little. Or so he believed now.

What if this man…this man was going to pull some sort of "move"? And tried to sweep Roderich away after all these years? Would Gilbert just be left in the dust once more?

But it was all so hard to believe! He could still hear the angry shouts and fists pounding on the table from the garden; how could two people who hate each other so much be friends, let alone lovers?

And then the next thought felt like a shot through the brain, heart, and spine all at once:

_You used to hate him once…now look at you…_

That ugly, vicious thought kept berating Gilbert's brain as the duo spent another twenty minutes in the garden; he let Lili tell him stories about her life with Vash, her toys and games, her dresses and desserts, and the elder politely listened; some made him laugh, when he was not too distracted with the idea that he, perhaps, had a rival for Roderich's affection.

But one statement broke his thoughts, and it gave him a little hope:

"Mister Gilbert, you really are a great guy! I can see why Mister Roderich likes you a lot!"

"Ah-…T-Thank you, Lili…"

"You're welcome. I know Mister Roderich will take good care of you. He even likes holding your hand under the table!"

Without another word, she began skipping back to the house after Vash called her name, flowers in her dainty fingers; how had she known…? Was she more perceptive than all of the boys were lead to believe…?

"Heh." Gilbert merely shook his head, and smirked, realizing that perhaps the youngest of them all was the smartest of them all…Or so, he at least hoped…

* * *

"I do apologize about your violin lesson being cancelled, Gilbert. I had no idea Vash would come over today." Roderich and him were finally alone, the Zwingli family having left a little past four o' clock; now, the Edelstein was dutifully placing his violin back in the music room, Gilbert leaning in the doorway.

"S'alright. You gave him the money and what he wanted, right?"

"Yes, yes, unfortunately. Vash wanted his profits from the recent months and he apparently needs to open another gun shop apparently on the west side of the country; God knows why, though. The men of this land do not need guns, they need…they need…" He trailed off, unable to find a word suitable to his ideas.

"Culture? Love? Sex?"

A smirk, and Roderich crossed his arms, giving the other a 'look' of joking disdain, "I would say the first two, yes."

"He has always liked guns, huh? Ever since you were kids, right?"

Roderich had turned now to his piano, shutting the case after playing for thirty minutes, "Oh, yes, since we were-" A pause, then, "You…know of our childhood?"

"Yes, Lili told me while you two were working."

Roderich's shoulders visibly slumped, "I do not like to speak of it…We are no longer friends, but he insists on continuing the family traditions. My parents used to do great business with his own, and we were supposedly destined to do the same. But I can barely stand to look at him." Chocolate-colored hair shook at the shake of a head, and thin arms found themselves hugging a lean body.

"But can you not just tell him 'no'? Something is obviously holding you back from telling him to get lost in the Alpines or Alpos or whatever those mountains are back in Switzerland!"

"Heh. Alps, Gilbert. And…I suppose part of it is pity. He has no family except for his sister, and I fear that if I do not help him, he may lose his business. He is not a hospitable person, as you learned today. I have had to clean up business messes with him and his customers; in return, he opts to advertise my instruments and other goods, the candy and toys and all. His sister especially helps with the latter. We are business partners, and I make sure he does not ruin his life."

"But…you care that he will mess up. Why do you care?"

Dark brows furrowed, and Roderich turned to his partner, leaning on his piano somewhat in the process, "I suppose it is that…deep down, I do wish we could still have some sort of connection. But Gilbert, if I may speak honestly, I find Vash to be a violent fool. He is incorrigible, always angry, always insisting it his 'his way or no way', and that was what drove us apart. We used…used to be very close."

"…Yes, I gathered that."

Silence for a moment, as the Edelstein bit his lip, pondering how much more he should say, "Best friends, really…I idolized his strength. Once in a while, he protected me when he visited. I was a weak child, and there were many a cruel child back home in Austria…I was bullied because I was a sickly, weak child...Because I loved music so much...When he visited, though, he protected me…I…I suppose I was infatuated for a time."

Gilbert was silent at that, and Roderich's orbs glanced at the other, and he did not like what he saw; a tense back, a firm lip, eyes trailed downward; he was upset, and that made the brunette's heart pang.

"G-Gilbert, you…what is wrong?" He took a step closer, and the albino merely shrugged,

"It…You really liked him. It was-"

"Gilbert, it was like a little girl's love-struck infatuation on the neighborhood boy. A first-time experience, but it does not matter in the end. Whatever feelings I had for Vash are gone, please…please do not doubt that. And…" He shook his head, "I never longed to…to kiss him. Or hold him like how I hold you…What I felt was…admiration…a longing to never leave his side. Perhaps it was a form of 'love', but it…there was no desire. I was blind to how he really was; I did not see his temper, and when I did, it cost me. I do not know what story Lili told you about our departure from friendship, but I will say this: I may have been at fault, but _he_ was the one who got physically violent."

Almost out of habit, Roderich's left hand touched the matching cheek on his face, a grimace forming from his mouth, "He was the one who hit me when I disagreed he should stop the gun business. I tried to tell him guns will just lead to war, to violence and rebellion, but he did not listen. He called me weak, and that he truly hated having to protect me for so long…" He shook his head, "Do you understand now? I do not hate him, I nearly do, but I am a bigger man that that. I just cannot stand him. I only keep up the business transactions because Lili is dear to me, and I wish to see her safe."

"…Yes, I understand." He gave a little smile, but it was strained, and it was painfully obvious to the older one; all Roderich needed to do was quirk an eyebrow and Gilbert continued with,

"But…But I think he still cares about you. A lot."

"Oh, hardly, Gilbert. He cannot stand me-"

"Roderich, just _listen_ to me…I saw how he looked at you. How angry he got when he realized you had a _male_ servant. I…I think…"

Purple eyes blink, Roderich's mouth forming an 'o' of surprise; he had never, ever believed Vash cared like _that_…he was even doubtful now when Gilbert talked of it, but…

But if Gilbert had hated him so passionately in the beginning, and now, months later, they were sharing passionate kisses and his heart yearned to be near the Beilschmidt always…

Then what could that say about Vash?

"I…I think he…that he and I… that we...both..."

He did not want Gilbert to say it; he did not want to hear it, and he certainly did not need to; swift feet rushed to the front of the taller one's chest, and before he could other another word, the servant was silence with a single finger sleeping upon his lips.

"Hush. Even if he cares in that way, I do not care. I have never felt attraction to Vash. Compassion? Yes. Perhaps a form of love? Yes. But I no longer do. Gilbert…Believe me…"

All he could do was stare into those red eyes that he repeatedly found intoxicating; he could see how scared the Beilschmidt was—that there may be another vying for his affection, someone that Roderich had had a stronger connection with…He could see the fear that Vash knew more about Roderich than Gilbert did…That their connection was weak compared to the past and history between Vash and himself…But it was all a lie. A complete and utter lie.

But the fact that Gilbert was jealous of a gun-toting fool and worried that he may lose Roderich to him stirred a passion in the rich master that he had not felt ever in his life; it made him realize how much Gilbert was putting into the relationship. That he was worried it would end with a flick of the hand, and that Roderich would choose someone else—despite the fact that, inside, Roderich was already willing to give up all he had now to be with Gilbert…He never thought one ouch of Elizaveta anymore, and his duties mostly centered around Gilbert now…

He stared into those beautiful eyes, and the Edelstein found his knees on the verge of shaking; he knew the Beilschmidt cared, and that they were both putting so much effort and desire into this relationship between them, but here, and now, seeing how worried the servant was that he would be left behind, that he would not measure up to what Roderich had seen in Vash, and more, something in Roderich snapped.

"I am ready." It was a breathless statement, let out as his finger left the mouth of the taller male, who raised nearly-white eyebrows at the other.

"Ready for what?"

Instantly, at the question, Roderich closed the distance between the two of them, swinging an arm around the other's neck, pressing his face as close as he could to the other's ear, and in a whisper, two hushed words came out. Two words that changed the game entirely.

"For you."

The twenty-three year old let out a gasp, for he knew what the words truly meant, and how intimate he was being; but before he could even talk more or even give Roderich a kiss, the master of the home broke the embrace, but not the gaze. His feet carried him out of the room, and at the look he was given, Gilbert felt a flash of heat course through his entire body.

That gaze had been purely, and wholely, a form of eyes one left for the bedchambers.

Roderich wanted to show him how wrong he had been to doubt he would ever be given up for someone else…He need not ask when he should come up to the bedroom, it would be their normal time.

With just abnormal happenings instead…

He was left there, standing with a hand over his beating heart; it was as if a drum was pounding in his ears, for Gilbert had completely not expected Roderich's reaction to his fears…

But now, when he thought upon it, he was not completely surprised…

For he was ready too.

There had been something holding both of them back; but when the realization came to them that there were other people in the world, other people that could separate them, or try to snatch them away, it had clicked in their minds that they needed to really do this, really fully get into the relationship—and do it now. And these people were not general society—they were the spurned lovers, the still-wanting lovers, and the people who had had past connections. The ones who had gotten away and were unhappy to be away.

For even though Gilbert did not know it, Roderich had wondered if there was a 'Vash' for Gilbert…someone who was secretly in love with him, and who wished to find him, and take him away—And Roderich would be damned if that would happen. Gilbert was _his_…his for as long as he wanted to be Roderich's. Which the elder secretly hoped would be 'forever'…

But he was ready to prove it. Prove that he wanted Gilbert here forever…

That Roderich _loved_ him…

He would not smoke tonight, to make sure his breath and mouth tasted the best for his lover…

He would not even work that night, too excited for what was to come…

He would only lie upon that bed, trying to read, willing time to go faster and faster…

_Eight o' clock, why can you not get here sooner…?_

_Eight o' clock, God help you, come closer to being in existence..._

_Eight o' clock…_

_Hurry here…_

_So you can change my life forever…_

But Roderich had been so absorbed in not eating the potatoes on an abandoned plate, in glancing between the book in his hand (Its page had not been turned since six in the evening), that he had not at first registered the knock on his door, and that the sun had set and the moon had risen…

A soft gasp and he sat up.

It was all going to change…

And now, now he was ready to welcome it with open arms…

* * *

_Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.__  
_

_- Emily Bronte _

* * *

A/N: AHA, you don't get a sex scene until next time ;) *Avoids the angry fangirls!*

I've never written Vash before, but it was sure a lot of fun! Poor Gil, one day Vash is going to lay one into him (But not in this story, I promise!).

Lili was also a lot of fun to write—I always see her as this sweet, young girl, who has to make sure her brother does not get put in jail for murder, haha!

Well, thanks everyone for the long wait. College just steals your soul XP Please stick around for more (I know the yaoi fangirls want to, at least, hah!) and thanks so much for reading and for reviewing. Next chapter should come around soon!


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